


A Wonderful World (Of Magic)

by StargateNerd



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hetalia: Axis Powers, Torchwood
Genre: Also FIILE Stich'n'Bitch Wolfie, Even Sealand, F/M, Gen, Hopefully people don't mind the craziness in here, Long ass story, M/M, and everyone's a badass, cause it's kinda hard to balance between crack and seriousness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-29
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-06 05:30:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 67,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/415256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StargateNerd/pseuds/StargateNerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Kirkland gets roped into doing his civic duty and takes the position of History of Magic Professor at Hogwarts. Tom Riddle pursues a mysterious (and possibly immortal) adorable Canadian who haunts his dreams, sending said Canadian’s brother into a murderous rampage. Meanwhile, Francis Bonnefoy and Luna Lovegood play matchmaker. Chaos ensues. Oh, and by the way, the Dark Mark totally doesn’t look good in pink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Return To Sheep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: SG-chan doesn't own anyone/thing in this story unless you don't recognize them from any other fandom. 
> 
> SG-chan hopes the characters aren’t too OOC; they might be considering how SG-chan likes to slip her various headcanons into her stories ^^; This takes place in sixth year, but don’t expect me to stick to the book; IMHO the sixth and seventh books sucked so bad they could substitute for a vacuum cleaner, so only expect vague snippets of plot from the sixth book, like Horcruxes, etc.
> 
> Emphasized words will be **bolded** , while the rest of the language key is:
> 
> Ancient English (England's spells, etc.): "{insert text}"
> 
> French: _insert text_

  ** _*_ 15 years previous _*_**

 Arthur Kirkland was awakened from his slumber by an explosion which he was sure could be heard all the way across the Channel. The searing pain in his chest was nothing new – Voldemort had taken to attacking populated non-magical settlements, most of which were situated in or around London, his heart.

 It took him a moment to realize that the explosion wasn’t nearby, and that it wasn’t a physical explosion, but one of Magick – of power and energy being flung out in such proportions that it was impossible to control it. The signature of the Magick was familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

 

With a muttered non-magical curse, the anthromorphic representation of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland opened a green-tinged portal and stepped through to the source of the explosion.

 

***Present Day***

 “Hello Arthur,” Albus Dumbledore greeted the blond man dressed in a military uniform that didn’t look too much out of WWII. It probably was, the aged wizard surmised as Arthur greeted him with a slightly strained smile.

 Ever since Voldemort’s return had been acknowledged by the Ministry, the attacks led by the Dark Lord and his followers were becoming more and more public, leading to a lot of pain for the personified nation.

 “I would say ‘good morning’, but I’m too busy dealing with the repercussions of last week’s ‘gas line leak’.” His sarcastic tone turned bitter by the end.

 

“Yes, too many have died already.”

 Both men knew that the death toll would be monumental in the end, no matter how long the actual war lasted.

 “So, I assume you didn’t call me here for an update on the situation.” Arthur seated himself without waiting for an invitation.

 “Astute as always,” Albus chuckled slightly. “I called you here to ask a favor – two favors, actually.”

 “Ah, after the defeat of Grindelwald, I think you can cash those in,” the younger-looking man replied.

 “Yes.” Here the wizard took off his spectacles and rubbed them with a conjured cloth. An expectant silence spanned the two men in a moment before Albus replaced his spectacles. “Since Tom Riddle first became the Dark Lord Voldemort, even before then, he was searching for a path to immortality. I have reason to believe he opted to make at least one Horcrux.”

 Arthur groaned as he leaned back in the chair. "Gwydion's follies,” the blond murmured. “The fool.”

 “Yes. There is nothing to fear from the next great adventure,” Albus imparted gravely to the other.

 “No, I was talking about the possibility of having more than one Riddle running around,” Arthur disagreed. Dumbledore paled visibly as he’d actually never thought of that possibility. “Of course, that might make things easier for us; after all, if each Riddle wants to be the most powerful, then they could all just kill each other off.”

Albus noted that the nation seemed to have a rather sadistic gleam in his eyes as he thought aloud. “You really hate him.”

 

Arthur raised an eyebrow at what he thought was quite obvious. “Yes, well, of course I do. I know you grieve for each person lost for the Greater Good, Albus, but you have not felt all 109,697 people, magical and otherwise, lost in this war **die**.”

 

The two could feel the ambient magick in the room become a swirling entity as Hogwarts felt the nation’s anger and sadness and attempted to comfort him. “{Thank you},” the blond murmured to the sentient castle. No matter how many times he came here, it never stopped amazing him how far the castle he had seen built from the foundations up had come. Arthur directed his attention back towards the man who had called him only to find Dumbledore gazing at him over the tops of his spectacles – looking somewhat **amused** of all things.

 

“As I was going to say,” Albus continued, “I would like for you to accompany me on locating Tom’s horcruxes.”

 The predatory gleam and dangerous smirk spoke all for itself. “A treasure hunt, eh?” Arthur chuckled nastily, resisting the urge to rub his hands together. “It’ll be like my delinquent days all over again.”

 Albus had just the barest feeling that he’d unleashed a terror on the world and perhaps his second question should be postponed, however-

 “So what was the other favor?” England inquired, pirate smirk still in place.

 “Well,” the aged wizard began rather slowly, “Professor Binns has seen fit to pass on to the afterlife-”

 “Finally,” Arthur interrupted. “Oswald’s been around since the late 1600s, it’s about time he moved on.”

 “And I was wondering if you’d like to take his place, at least for this year.” Dumbledore went on as though he’d never been interrupted.

 The nation’s expression was one of surprise. Of all the things the wizard could’ve asked, that’d been the last thing he’d expected. Asking him to fill in the DADA position would have been more predictable, but then again, Arthur’s magick wasn’t exactly something humans were capable of. And after all, who better to teach history than one who’d actually been there?

 As a plan already formed in his mind on how to teach the young and impressionable students what _real_ history was, Arthur spoke slowly. “If I do accept this position, I would be able to teach what I wanted, correct? No Ministry interference.” Without waiting for an answer, the blond continued aloud his train of thought. “But it would only be first through fifth years, along with those who passed the History OWLs, which I’m assuming wouldn’t be many.”

 Dumbledore waited, almost nervously, for England to make his decision.

 “I think it’s about time I did my civic duty,” the nation concluded, and stuck his hand out for Dumbledore to shake. “You have yourself a History professor, Albus.”

 

* * *

 “Oh _Angleterre_!” Francis Bonnefois called as he opened the library door.

 “What the hell do you want frog?” Arthur snapped.

 “Well, it looks like you are moving,” the Frenchman observed as his age-old rival levitated a stack of books off a high shelf.

 “I’m taking a post as a History of Magic professor if you **must** know,” the Englishman replied, hoping that would get him off his back.

 “A fitting position for someone as stuffy as yourself,” Francis nodded to himself. He dodged a book that was thrown his way with little ease. “ _Mon petit lapin_ , you wound me!” he cried out in fake anguish.

 

“Sod off, we both know you couldn't care less," the shorter-haired man scoffed.

 Francis pouted. “So unfair you are to _moi_ ,” he complained.

 “Don’t you have someone else to bother besides me?” Arthur inquired exasperatedly.

 “Actually, I came to inform you that your French-mocking lunatic-”

 

“His name is actually Tom Riddle,” Arthur interrupted as he sealed the last of the books inside his trunk. “Voldemort is an anagram.”

 “Yes, like I said, French-mocking,” Francis repeated. “Really, such a pretentious name.”

 “He wants to be immortal.”

 “Well, he obviously doesn’t know how boring it gets after awhile,” Francis scoffed.

Arthur snickered. “You normally don’t involve yourself in these things.”

 

“Yes, well it certainly doesn’t help that he is bothering some of my more favored children.”

 This was brand new information to the Englishman. “Really?”

 The longer haired man nodded, a dark scowl gracing his normally easy-going features. “That lunatic has been trying to recruit some of the more influential Veela clans in my country.”

 “Great,” Arthur groaned, falling back into an easy chair. “I’ve half a mind to hunt him down and put him through a Spanish-style Inquisition.”

 “Why not?” Francis shrugged as he leaned over the back of the chair. “You’re tense, not to mention sexually frustrated – a torture session will do you some good!”

 “I-I am **not** sexually frustrated!” Arthur spluttered, his face turning red.

“Yes, yes you are,” Francis chided, poking him in the shoulder. “It is quite depressing to see you dancing around _Amerique_ like a blushing teenager.”

“I-you-we-we are not like that!” By now Arthur’s face was bright red in equal parts embarrassment and anger.

 

“Of course you aren’t,” Francis soothed, patting Arthur on the head, for which he received a head butt that, due to the chair’s backing, didn’t quite reach him. “Why don’t you simply hunt him down?” Francis didn’t want the Englishman to take any more pages of physical violence out of Lovino’s handbook of tsundereness and figured that distraction was the best method. Take the anger directed toward France, and move it elsewhere. “That is what happened to our friend Jack, _non_?”

“Yes, but that was **simple** ,” Arthur sighed as he sank into the chair, almost pouting. It seemed the distraction had worked – for now at least. “Jack the Ripper didn’t have some of the most protective magicks of the last few centuries at his disposal, along with a cult of followers for use as meat shields.”

 “Come now, you used to brag back in your delinquent days that there was more than ten ways to skin a cat, so to say, _non_? Use some of that pirate logic!” Francis rapped his knuckles against Arthur’s forehead, smirking at the flabbergasted expression on his face. “You were not the only one with pirates, _Angleterre_ ; slipping into that mindset is not so terribly difficult.”

 “Bothersome frog,” the Englishman snorted, lips twitching upwards slightly.

 “Admit it. You love me.”

 “I **tolerate** you; there’s a difference.”

 

“A small one.”

 “I’ll be casting **extremely** vicious wards to keep out unwanted visitors,” Arthur warned as he rose from the chair.

" _Moi_? Unwanted? How cruel you are!” Francis wailed. His mood did a complete 180 as a lecherous grin spread across his face. “I may be unwanted, but what of _mon fils_ Mathieu, or his brother, hmm? You would be quite amenable to having America the Beautiful in your bedchambers, _non_?”

 “GET OUT!”

The Frenchman merely laughed as he ducked another book thrown at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French key:
> 
>  _Angleterre_ : England
> 
>  _Mon petit lapin_ : My little rabbit
> 
>  _Amerique_ : America
> 
>  _Mon fils_ : my child
> 
> Excuse the probably crappy French; if it’s any consolation, I didn’t use Google Translator! ^^ The tenor in our quartet at school takes French, and I got his help on this. It’s his fourth year taking it, so he probably knows what he’s doing… ^^;
> 
> I love France, I really do. Seriously, he’s one of my favorite characters, next to everybody else of course xD One of the downsides to watching HetaOni, RomaHeta, HetaQuest, and all those other RPGs is that now I have no favorite characters – I love everybody too much TT_TT But seriously, France is the best pervert ever x3 Plus my BPF (Best Pervy Friend) has hair exactly like his, only darker. He knows who he is…
> 
> Don’t forget to review please!


	2. A-Hunting We Will Go (For New Teachers)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No language key this chappie, though don't expect it to always be like that...
> 
> Oh, and this chapter features our intrepid boy hero. Yay! *confetti*

The doorbell woke Arthur from his sleep, and whoever was ringing the infernal bell was lucky they were outside, or they would have found themselves victim to the rage of a just awoken Englishman. Of course, if that damn bell kept **ringing** , they might find themselves in danger anyway!

“‘m coming, ‘m coming,” he called as he pulled on his unicorn slippers (sh-shut up, they were a present from Japan!) and plodded down the hallway. By the time he got to the foyer the bell was **still** ringing, so he was quite understandably right pissed as he opened the front door and shouted: “The bloody fuck d’ye want?”

Twinkling blue eyes set in a wrinkled face above a long white beard looked so damnably happy that nothing Arthur could say or think of could quite convey his anger, irritation and downright **frustration** that was being cause by the man in front of him. Finally, he came upon an appropriate phrase.

“Burn in hell and leave me in peace,” the nation growled and made to slam his door.

Unfortunately, Dumbledore had already slipped inside and was admiring the large portrait that sat above his mantle. “Beautiful craftsmanship,” the wizard commented on the regal lion that lay at the feet of a man whose garb marked him as the captain of a seafaring vessel. The fact that the man in the portrait looked nearly identical to Arthur was not commented upon.

“I highly doubt you came here at 7:30 in the morning to admire my home, Albus,” Arthur said in a tired tone. “I was awake quite late last night finalizing some preparations for Samhain, so would you mind cutting to the chase?”

“I thought today would be a good day for hunting.” The twinkle in Albus’s eyes had been replaced by a steely determination, and in spite of himself, Arthur smirked.

“Give me time to change; not all of us like to parade around in our nightclothes.” Arthur stared pointedly at Dumbledore’s robes, which today were a deep fuchsia with pink and green blobs all over.

“I received these as a Christmas gift from my brother, Arthur; I can hardly burn them.”

“I’ll gladly do it for you,” the nation muttered as he plodded back to his bedroom. “Perhaps with you in them even; give me some peace and quiet.”

Albus chuckled himself as he heard the other man mumbling. Really, for someone who was hundreds of years old, the personification of England could be quite childish. Although compared to the actual children he knew, he supposed that between acting childish and being childish, he was glad Arthur was one of the former, and then only occasionally. If what he had gleaned from Severus’ latest report was true, then there might not be much time left to-

The old wizard was brought out of his musings as Arthur came down the stairs, dressed in jeans and a dark black sweatshirt.

“I assume we’ll be breaking at least a couple of curses down today,” the blond said by way of explanation. “Blood doesn’t show up as well on black. Will we be going out of country at all?”

“So far as I know, all of Tom’s horcruxes are located in the United Kingdom,” Dumbledore replied.

“And by "the United Kingdom" you mean…”

“England and Scotland.”

“Gringotts and Hogwarts at least?”

“Possibly,” Albus admitted.

“Least there’s none in Ireland; Neve would have a fit,” Arthur groused. “How Sean ever put up with her I’ll never know…”

Albus chuckled as he pulled a pen from his pocket. “Little Hangleton,” he said to answer Arthur’s unasked question before they were whisked away.

* * *

“Harry, you’re here!” Upon entering the Burrow Harry Potter was nearly bowled over as he was treated to an exuberant glomp/tackle/hug/bruising of the ribs from Hermione Granger.

“Hello Hermione, nice to see you too,” the dark-haired boy chuckled.

“Harry mate, you’re finally here!” Ron Weasley turned Hermione’s glomp into a full group hug, and though nearly suffocated, Harry felt quite comfortable.

“Harry!” As he heard the voice of Ron’s sister Ginny, the danger bells started ringing, and he decided to escape the group hug before he really was suffocated.

“How are you doing Harry?” Ginny asked, a happy grin gracing her features.

“Visited the new Potions professor with the headmaster,” Harry grinned. “Looks like Snape’s gonna be out of a job!”

“Brilliant!” Ron cheered as Hermione scolded: “Professor Snape isn’t **that** bad!”

“Come off it Hermione, we know you dislike him too,” Ginny scoffed.

“That doesn’t mean I have to be so open about it,” Hermione retorted.

“Girls,” Ron mouthed at Harry, who hid a smile. “Who d’you suppose is going to be teaching Defense this year?” the redhead asked in an effort to ignore his sister and Hermione arguing.

“No one from the Ministry I hope,” Harry replied.

“If it’s someone useless we can just have you teach us again,” Ron teased with an elbow to Harry’s side.

He groaned. “Merlin no; last year was nerve-wracking enough in secret; can you imagine me teaching an actual **class**?”

“Speaking of teaching, I heard Dad talking to Mum about how there’s going to be new History and Astronomy teachers too,” Ginny butted in. By the scowl on Hermione’s face, it seemed Ginny had gotten the last word in their argument.

“Blimey, are they trying to replace the entire staff or something?” Ron exclaimed. “That’s **four** new teachers!”

“Well, really, it’s only courses that don’t have very competent teachers,” Harry commented.

“Professor Sinistra isn’t too bad, and if that’s the case, then why isn’t Trelawney being sacked?” Hermione muttered.

“So you admit Snape isn’t that good a teacher!” Ginny exclaimed triumphantly.

“I wonder if the Ministry’ll send teachers,” Harry thought aloud.

“I don’t think the headmaster would allow it,” Hermione said, ignoring Ginny’s comment.

“Though really, who cares? It’s only astronomy and history,” Ron scoffed. “Nobody takes those classes.”

“Luna takes astronomy,” Ginny interjected in defense of her friend.

“And Hermione’s so smart she probably got all her OWLs,” Harry teased.

The brunette witch blushed at the compliment before turning to Ron. “What about all the first years that are going to be stuck with whoever gets hired, hmm? And all the other students who **have** to take those courses?”

“I guess that’s their problem then,” Ron shrugged.

“You’d better get rid of that attitude if you’re going to continue being a prefect!”

“Bloody hell, it’s not like I **asked** to be one!”

“How long before they get together?” Harry whispered.

“By winter hols,” Ginny replied.

“End of the year,” Harry disagreed.

“Loser has to do a favor the winner asks of them,” Ginny offered.

“Deal.”

The two had grown closer over the summer as Harry mourned for his godfather. While Ginny had never actually lost someone so close to her, she blamed herself for letting Tom Riddle control her, something Harry could sympathize with all too well.

“Hey.” The Boy-Who-Lived was brought out of his gloomy musings by Ginny’s hand on his arm. “You okay?” she asked softly.

“I’m fine,” he assured her.

“Sure?”

“Positive.” Ginny’s coming interrogation was interrupted by her mother’s entrance.

“Harry!” The Weasley matriarch took it upon herself to give Harry a rib and backbreaking hug. “Side-along treated you well?”

“Sort of queasy really,” Harry replied softly as he attempted to breathe. “Where’d Headmaster Dumbledore go?”

“He and Arthur are discussing Order business; nothing for you kids to worry about.”

“Bollocks we don’t,” Ron snorted. “We all fought at the Ministry, held our own against You-Know-Who and his flunkies and whipped ‘em! If we can do that well on our own, we can do just as well in the Order!”

“For one thing, none of you are overage; that’s the **only** reason the twins are allowed to attend meetings – they don’t go out on missions,” Mrs. Weasley scolded. “For another, you simply aren’t ready for that kind of danger.” She silenced any further protests from Ron with a "Don’t you dare argue with me – I brought you into this world I can take you out" glare. “If I had my way none of you would have ever learned how to fight.”

“That’s why we need competent teachers,” Ginny reminded her mother. “And why the headmaster’s replacing a few teachers this year right?”

“Very astute Ms. Weasley,” Dumbledore complimented as he entered the room, blue eyes twinkling. “I believe Ms. Granger has been a good influence on all of you.” The teens chuckled while Hermione snorted – no doubt thinking of Ron and his (still) dreadful study habits. “I apologize for having to leave so soon Molly. I have a meeting to keep with our new astronomy teacher – not that he knows it yet. Oh, and Harry?” The dark-haired boy seemed slightly startled at Dumbledore’s acknowledgment of his presence. “Do try to keep out of trouble.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s this? Harry and Ginny actually getting along? Yeah, SG-chan doesn’t always villainize Ginny in her stories, or Ron for that matter x3 It all depends on the plot, and how they would be useful… Although for some reason SG-chan is having a devil of a time writing Hermione; maybe cause we’re a lot alike xD
> 
> Also, Neve is Ireland while Sean is N. Ireland. Wales and Scotland... well, you'll see them later ;D
> 
> Okey, hope you all enjoyed, and don’t forget to leave a review/comment or concrit, which is more than welcome.


	3. Staff (Not the Wooden Kind) Troubles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, we're gonna need some names this chapter! 
> 
> Neve - Ireland
> 
> Sean - N. Ireland
> 
> Will - Scotland 
> 
> Ianto - Wales
> 
> And the key for this chappie:
> 
> Greek: "\insert text\"

“Well, home sweet home,” England muttered to himself as he strode through the gates that opened under a gentle mental prod. “Nice to feel magick besides my own for once.” _Not to mention Hogwarts is quite cozy_ , he thought, spirits lifting at the thought of all the happy times he’d had here before-

“England?”

Said nation was brought abruptly out of his thoughts and turned in surprise. “Greece?” The narcoleptic nation had come down the path just left of him, his jacket firmly zipped and his beret cocked to one side of his head. “What the hell are you doing here?” Arthur was, to say the least, astonished to see Greece here. He had his own magic schools after all, the most prestigious being the Delphi Academy.

“I’m teaching astronomy here,” Greece told the blond.

Arthur sweat dropped. “Are you sure you’ll be able to stay awake?”

“I can be awake if I like,” Greece replied calmly. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“It’s Arthur. Arthur Kirkland,” England told him. “Yours is Karpusi, right?”

“Heracles Karpusi,” the Grecian clarified. “Arthur as in the king?”

“Heracles as in Zeus’s son?” Arthur arched an eyebrow.

Greece gave a small smile as he adjusted Mount Athos across his back. “We should probably… go in.”

“Are you **sure** you’ll stay awake for classes?”

“I sleep when I like. I can do a lot of things at night.”

“Yes yes, everyone’s heard you and Kiku go at it,” Arthur muttered irritatedly.

Heracles smirked lazily. “He **does** get quite loud, doesn’t he?”

“You **do** know silencing charms don’t you?” Green eyes narrowed sharply. “Personally I could care less if the students hear, but I’d rather not be scarred for life.”

“Don’t worry, Kiku’s busy with his own things. He’s actually the one who encouraged me to take this post. He read something about this in a paper, and mailed your headmaster about it. Kiku thought that this would be a good way to "strengthen diplomatic relations".” Heracles recited all this in a monotone.

“He just didn’t want to put up with you groping him for a few months, didn’t he?” Arthur surmised.

“I think so,” Heracles agreed. “The staff room is…” The tan nation frowned as he tried to remember what the headmaster had told him in the letter.

“Follow me; I know where it is,” England sighed.

“That’s right, Hogwarts is the most prestigious school of the United Kingdom, isn’t it?” Greece realized.

“Technically this is under Will’s governance, but he’s an arse and much too lazy to manage it,” the blond grumbled. “Neve hates me – always has, and Sean’s loyally devoted to her. Ianto is too busy with his bloody Captain Jack – I personally think that is no reason to trap yourself underground with a bunch of people you’ll certainly outlive, but does he listen? No, he just ignores me because I’m just little Arty who doesn’t know a single bleeding thing about what’s good for the Rift!”

Heracles blinked in surprise, having never seen this side of the self-proclaimed gentleman before. Though much of what Kiku said about England now made much more sense. And Zeus, talk about sibling problems…

“At least the castle hasn’t changed too much,” England muttered as a staircase moved so the two nations could reach the next floor. “I was only in Albus’s office the last time I was here.”

“Are you the new professors?” The portrait they stopped in front of, which looked to be a painter, a sword strapped at his waist, asked curiously.

“Yes, now could you let us in?” Arthur scowled.

“One moment, one moment!” the painter laughed as he ran off the canvas, probably to tell of their arrival.

“Bet he’s Italian,” Heracles said, gathering a chuckle from Arthur.

“Most likely he is,” the shorter man agreed.

“You can come in!” The painter had returned, and the frame moved to reveal a doorway.

“Thank you,” Arthur said as he went in first. Heracles gave a nod to the portrait as he followed.

“Ah Arthur, how are you?” Dumbledore asked, twinkle as strong as ever from his position at the head of the table of teachers.

“As well as I can be considering how bloody long it took to convince Will that, no, I wasn’t going to be bothering his pet squid, never mind that I gave it to him in the first place.” A silent aura of menace permeated the air around him, startling the teachers already there while Heracles merely rolled his eyes.

“Verbally behead your brother some other time, Kirkland,” he sighed.

“But it’s so much fun,” Arthur nearly pouted (he was scowling dammit, scowling!).

“Excuse me, would you mind introducing yourselves?” squeaked a small man seated two seats down from Dumbledore’s left.

“It is polite to give your own name first,” Heracles pointed out.

“Now now, let’s not be fighting!” a portly man sitting across from the small man boomed. “It isn’t as if any of us are Death Eaters or anything!” Everyone gave him a glare, the darkest coming from Arthur and a dark-haired, dour-expressioned man. “Er, um, I’m Horace Slughorn, Potions professor?” he offered in some sort of weak placation.

“I thought your Potions professor was a much less… jolly person, Albus,” Arthur commented.

“That would be me.” The other man who had been glaring darkly at Slughorn stood, giving the blond his attention. “Severus Snape. I’ll be taking the post for Defense Against the Dark Arts this year.”

“Good luck on surviving,” Arthur said dryly. Snape gave a strained, barely there smile.

“\Stop flirting,\” Heracles muttered.

“\Shut up!\” Arthur smacked the back of his head. “\Simply wishing someone luck doesn’t mean you’re flirting with them!\”

“\True, your attempts usually consist of arguing with America.\” Heracles took a seat next to a rather plump, matronly woman.

“Oh, do shut the fuck up,” Arthur snarled before taking an empty seat down the table from Snape.

“Language please!” the stern-looking woman sitting next to Dumbledore’s right admonished.

“I apologize,” Arthur replied stiffly. “Karpusi just said some things I didn’t agree with.”

“But true,” the Grecian smirked lazily.

“Carthage will look like child’s play after I’m done with you,” the blond snarled.

“I’m shaking.”

“You **should** be.”

“Children, children!” Albus chided. “Please, leave your squabbling until after the meeting is over.”

“Fine,” the two nations agreed sullenly.

“Now, to my right is our Transfigurations professor, Deputy Headmistress and head of Gryffindor, Minerva McGonagall. Next to her is Charity Burbage, who teaches Muggle Studies. Our Divinations professor isn’t feeling well, but if you wish to go meet her just ask Minerva to show you the way.” McGonagall gave a slight grimace at that. Dumbledore went around the rest of the table before he turned heartily twinkling eyes on Heracles. “Now, if you would introduce yourself?”

“What spell do you use, or is the twinkling in your eyes a natural thing?” Heracles wondered.

“He’s had it for as long as I’ve known him,” Arthur offered grumpily.

“So it’s natural then. I’m Heracles Karpusi.” The Grecian jumped right into his introduction. “I’m taking the Astronomy post.”

“Feel free to hit him if he falls asleep at any time,” Arthur put his two cents worth in.

“I recognize the importance of being well-rested and take every opportunity to make certain that I am. Unlike some people who collapse right in the middle of a presentation because they’ve been up nearly two days working non-stop.”

“It was a bill meant to reduce the amount of troops lost due to poor training,” the shorter retorted.

“You were running a fever.”

“So my temperature was a **little** higher than normal; **you** somehow managed to give yours while sleeping!”

“So you’re saying that I can do my job in my sleep. Right, onto your introduction.” The worst part of it all was that Greece looked so damn nonchalant, like it was every day that he got one up over the former British Empire…

“My name is Arthur Kirkland, and if Karpusi doesn’t get that cat on his head out of here, I’m going to shoot it off.” The blond said this all in a voice dripping with false cheer, his aura of "menace" growing even thicker before he turned to Dumbledore, ignoring Heracles’s disapproving frown as he cooed softly to the little creature who was currently being threatened. “Albus, you wouldn’t mind if I go, would you? I’m afraid if I stay much longer **someone** will end up dead.”

“Do you know where your quarters are?” Dumbledore’s twinkle was less pronounced now.

“I will once I ask for directions!” England chirped. “Don’t bother sending a house elf, they tend to fawn over me far too much, which tends to annoy me-”

“\And Zeus forbid that we upset the British Empire,\” Greece muttered mutinously as he cuddled his cat, along with another that had somehow made its way up to his shoulder. “\After all, he’s so buried in UST that he can’t even see when other people are trying to-\”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear **any** of that!” England’s "menace" aura doubled as he stalked out of the room.

There was a short silence before the remaining teachers started gossiping amongst themselves, worried expressions on many faces barring Snape’s, who had a small smile.

 _I think this year may be tolerable_ , the former Potions professor thought to himself about this new professor, Arthur Kirkland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you don’t know what a ‘menace’ aura is, go read a lovely UKUS doujin by the name of An Effective Drug For Sleeping at Night. Or you can read the text version as told by the lovely Yamino Tenshi 202 on FF.net – it’s probably best if you read the actual doujin though to get the full visual effect ^^;
> 
> Also, yes, Ianto Jones of Torchwood is Wales. It is my headcanon and if you would like an explanation beyond that, simply PM SG-chan and you will get her full rant of reasoning in reply ^^
> 
> As always, concrit/comments are more than welcome~


	4. Sorting Out New Troubles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware the flashbacks; herein begins the spam of them. Also ship tease.

_"It looks as though Morrigan herself trampled through here," Arthur clucked disapprovingly as he glanced around._

_“Not like you can really do anything about it,” Ianto replied, a small smile pulling at his lips at his brother’s preference for cleanliness that apparently extended to bombed out cities._

_“Too true,” the blond nation whispered, pain for his people – **their** people – reflected in his deep green eyes. The two had been foraging through the wreckage, on the lookout for anyone who might still be alive, buried in the rubble. So far they had not had any luck. _

_Arthur cocked his head suddenly, a pensive expression on his face. “Did you feel that?”_

_“Feel what?” Ianto asked._

_“There’s magick, coming from over there.” The shorter broke out into a run, surprisingly quick for someone whose country was being ravaged daily from constant bombings._

_“Arthur slow down! There might be an undetonated explosive!” Ianto yelled after his younger brother. The brunette sighed exasperatedly as the other didn’t even pause before breaking into a run himself._

_"Help me!” Arthur demanded as he started to move rubble aside. “There’s someone under here, someone alive!” With his elder brother’s help the figure of a man was uncovered. He looked to be in his late forties or early fifties, and his blue eyes shone up at them with relief._

_“Wh-who?” the man croaked, his voice raspy._

_“Move him gently Arthur,” Ianto reminded him as he bent to grab the man round his torso._

_“I know, I know.” Despite his irritated tone, the blond was gentle in his movements as the brothers lifted the man from where he’d been trapped beneath the rubble and out into the open air._

_“Can you move your arms and legs?” Ianto asked as he examined the man’s head for any bumps._

_“Yes,” he replied. “Who are you? You aren’t dressed like paramedics or medical personnel.”_

_“We’re volunteers. I’m Ianto, and this is my brother Arthur,” the brunette told him in a friendly tone. “Tilt your head back so I can get a look at your eyes. You don’t seem to be concussed,” he remarked. “Can you remember the date?”_

_“December 29th, 1940.”_

_“Close, it’s the 30th; you must’ve been out for a bit,” Ianto observed while Arthur remained silent. “Can you tell us your name now?”_

_“It’s Albus; Albus Dumbledore.”_

* * *

“Harry, you’re being paranoid!” Ginny groaned. “Yes, Malfoy’s a dick.” She ignored Harry’s scowl. “That doesn’t mean he’s **evil**. Sure, he went into Borgin and Burkes. Ever think maybe he was running an errand for Daddy dearest?”

“Maybe he knew he was being followed and did it to throw me off!” Harry argued.

“Do you honestly think he’s **that** smart? Merlin, even Hermione doesn’t think that round about!” Ginny rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration at her pseudo-brother’s stubbornness. “Not everything Draco Malfoy does revolves around you, Harry. Or does widdle Hawwy-kins have a cwush?”

“On Draco bleeding Malfoy? Yeah right!” the boy scoffed. “I’d rather snog Voldemort first!” Ginny dissolved into giggles at that.

“Excuse me, is this compartment-”

The two turned to see Luna Lovegood at the doorway with a slightly surprised, yet dreamy, expression on her face.

“You can sit with us Luna; we were just talking,” Harry reassured her.

“I was trying to convince him that Malfoy may be a tosser, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s evil,” Ginny explained to her best friend.

“Well, he **does** have an absence of ensnarls about him,” Luna mused. “That might account for some of his more unfavorable behavior…”

“Oh Luna,” Ginny chuckled, giving the blonde a tight hug. “Do me a favor please? I’m off to visit Dean. Make sure Harry doesn’t wander off?”

“All right,” Luna agreed.

“Thanks,” Ginny said. She set Luna’s bag on the seat, and then before she left, glared at Harry over Luna’s shoulder and mouthed: “Be nice!”

Harry gulped at the redhead’s glare and nodded slightly. He simply stood there a moment, watching Luna stare off into space before he cleared his throat. “Er, um, would you like some help with that?”

“Oh?” Luna turned. “Yes, that would very helpful. Thank you Harry.”

“No problem,” Harry replied as he grabbed one trunk and lifted it up to the luggage carriage. “Wow, it doesn’t weigh that much at all! How do you get it like that?”

“It’s a feather light charm,” Luna replied. “Don’t you put one on your trunk?”

“Ah, no, my relatives are Muggles so I don’t really do magic while they’re around.” Nervous and wanting to direct attention away from his living state, he asked, “So how was your summer?”

“It wasn’t very eventful,” Luna replied, her expression serene as she sat down and pulled out of her pocket… a newspaper? “I helped Daddy with the Quibbler, started studying for my OWLs for this year, and started my fairy scrapbook.”

“Oh yeah, your dad runs a newspaper, doesn’t he?” Harry mused. “Wait, fairy scrapbook?”

“Oh, yes.” Luna unfolded her newspaper to the third page. “There’s a fairy circle in our back garden – it’s been there ever since Mummy left – and every year while I’m at Hogwarts I make a scrapbook, pictures and other things, of the different creatures I find there. Then, when I get back home, I give it to them as a summer solstice gift.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Harry commented for lack of anything else to say. “I mean – Hermione always goes on about how things like that don’t exist, but when you think about it, it’s magic – that’s reason enough.”

Luna lifted her gaze from the paper, her pale blue eyes feeling as though they were looking into his soul, before she gave a small smile. “You’re a strange person, Harry Potter,” the Ravenclaw commented. “Would you like to read with me?” Not sure how to respond, Harry nodded and sat down next to her, perusing the tabloid of strange things called "Noppera" that Luna was reading about.

* * *

“You didn’t cook any of this, did you?” Greece asked as he pulled out his chair.

“Why does everyone think I’m such a terrible cook?” Arthur scowled.

“Probably the one time Gilbert ate your scones, passed out, and everyone thought he was dead,” Greece mused, poking with a fork at what seemed to be mashed potatoes.

“It’s pronounced "scawns", you illiterate Philistine,” Arthur muttered as he sank into his own chair.

“Homer mean anything to you?” Heracles glared lazily at England, who was scowling ( **not** pouting dammit!).

Just three seats down, Minerva McGonagall shook her head. “ **Why** did you hire them Albus?” she asked for the 34th time since she had first met the two men.

“Arthur is a very old friend,” Dumbledore replied. “As for Professor Karpusi, I had no idea he and Arthur knew each other; just be glad he isn’t French.”

“The French can all go drown in a lake of their own egotistical perverted fluids!” Arthur declared vehemently, having caught the word "French" at the end of the sentence.

“If you start ranting about the Suez Canal again, I **will** knock you out,” Heracles said quietly but seriously. Arthur replied by doing the most masculine and logical thing and gave him the bird while simultaneously sticking his tongue out at the Grecian.

Minerva gave a heavy sigh. At least none of the students were here yet. “This is going to be a long year,” she muttered to herself.

“But an enjoyable one!” Filius Flitwick didn’t flinch at all (okay, maybe a **teensy** bit) under Minerva’s glare. “Come Minerva, you had to have seen how Albus seems much less stressed with them here.”

She **had** noticed that – grudgingly. It went against everything she knew to let someone she didn’t know so close to everything she held dear – and Albus, her former mentor and idol, counted as close to her. “They have yet to be seen as competent teachers,” the woman muttered, her own slightly menacing aura making everyone near her – save Dumbledore – give a slight shiver. Really, it was a good thing the students hadn’t arrived yet; to be seen acting so unprofessionally would have been humiliating! Speaking of which…

“I’d better get ready to greet the first years,” Minerva stated primly, and, with a swirl of her robes that made some people think she’d been taking pointers from Snape, departed from the Hall.

 _Quite a deputy you have Albus,_ Arthur mused to himself. _I can see why she’s the head Lioness. Too bad she isn’t one of mine… Damn Will._ Really, it was to be expected though – everyone else was kind enough in their welcome and had eventually warmed up to him, but that was mainly because he was their nation. He was never going to tell his eldest brother of the fact that Hogwarts’ Deputy Headmistress was truly Scottish through and through; he’d never live it down.

Despite his maudlin thoughts though, he was looking forward to this year. After all, he hadn’t seen Harry Potter since the lad was a babe, just moments after the attack on Godric’s Hollow.

* * *

“Harry, didn’t you say that Snape was being replaced this year?” Ron asked, frowning.

“Yeah, why?”

“‘Cause he’s sitting up there at the staff table,” the redhead replied.

“What?” Harry turned his attention from quietly observing (he was **not** stalking) Malfoy to the table. “What?” he repeated. “But – Slughorn said he’d take over Potions – look, he’s sitting right between McGonagall and that bloke with the cat!”

“Maybe Snape’s staying on as an assistant teacher or something?” Ron’s nose wrinkled as if he smelled something unpleasant.

“Merlin, I hope not,” Harry groaned. “Though if he’s here to give me any more "remedial lessons", no matter what the Headmaster says, I’m not going to let him near my mind again.”

“Hello Harry, Ron,” Neville greeted his dorm mates as they sat near him.

“Hey Nev,” Ron replied. “How was your summer?”

“Not too bad,” the other divulged with a wide smile. “Gran took me to get a new wand, so I’m not using my dad’s anymore.”

“That’s great Neville,” Harry congratulated him. “I bet classes will be a lot easier for you now, huh?” Neville’s continued grin was all the answer needed.

Any further conversation was cut off as McGonagall led in the first-years to be sorted.

Harry’s attention wasn’t on this, though, but on Snape’s forbidding presence. While visiting Slughorn with Dumbledore, the former had seemed so **sure** in taking the Potions position! Was Snape still here as an assistant, the Head of Slytherin, or what? If Dumbledore had kept him on simply to continue teaching Harry Occlumency, well, then Snape would be out of a job lickety-split for sure. Besides, he’d gotten better at it over the summer. With not much to do besides chores, he’d had to do **something** to keep his mind off Sirius, as well as how nice it would be to frighten the Dursleys into leaving him alone. Not too much, just enough to put Vernon in a psychiatric ward perhaps…

Visions of his so-called "family" in traction were interrupted by a boisterous yell of: “Ha! I’m gonna show you, Jerk Arthur, just how good I, Sea-kun, am at magic!”

Harry looked up at the first year who’d proclaimed this just in time for the blond guy sitting at the end of the table next to Snape to snap: “Stop mangling the Queen’s English, and just get to your table Peter, or do you **want** me to owl Tino?”

“Sea-kun will gracefully retreat for now!” The first year, Peter, shook his fist at the blond before sitting down at the – of **course** – Gryffindor table. Hermione immediately took to scolding him.

“You don’t talk that way to a professor!”

“Professor? That jerk? Ha!” Peter cackled. “He’s my brother, much as I hate to admit it, so of course I can insult him!”

“Owl. Tino. No more Gundam.” The almost growl somehow carried across the hall, and Peter paled before he started to pout, sinking into his seat.

“Jerk,” he muttered.

“I know how you feel,” Ron nodded, giving Peter a pat on the back. “Older accomplished brothers are a pain, huh?” At the surprised look the boy gave him the redhead smiled sympathetically. “Youngest of five boys.”

“Don’t forget me, brother dearest,” Ginny slung an arm around her brother’s shoulder.

“You’re a girl,” Ron argued. “That in and of itself is an accomplishment, so you don’t count.”

“Noogie or Bat-Bogey my dear brother?” Ginny inquired sweetly.

“Wow, you argue just like my uncle and dad!” Peter laughed. “Although you’re a lot more articulate than my dad,” he said to Ginny. “I don’t know how Papa can understand him sometimes. Then again, they’ve been together so long that it isn’t surprising.” The students around them were no longer paying attention to the rest of the Sorting in favor of gaining potential blackmail information on one of the new teachers.

“If I could please have your attention?” Everyone quickly did turn to pay attention as Dumbledore began to speak. “Welcome students, both old and new, to another year at Hogwarts!” There was the usual insert of polite clapping. “The ever-growing list of banned items can be found in Mr. Filch’s office, and I must stress, they are **banned** for a reason. Also, the Forbidden Forest is, in fact, forbidden, so please, do stay out of it if you do not wish to die a painful death.”

The twinkling eyes seemed to rest on the Gryffindor table in particular before moving on. “We have the honor of welcoming back to our school a beloved alumni and former teacher, Professor Horace Slughorn, who will be taking over Potions from Professor Snape, who in turn will be taking the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

If Harry hadn’t been biting the inside of his cheek, he probably would’ve done something incredibly melodramatic and stupid like yelling “NOOOOO!” or something. As it was, Dumbledore had to wait a couple minutes for the murmuring and sometimes outright "boo"s to die down before he continued.

“Replacing Professor Binns, who has gone onto his next great adventure, is Professor Arthur Kirkland. Professor Sinistra has taken leave of us because of family problems and taking her place is Professor Heracles Karpusi, an accomplished alumni from the Delphi Academy of Greece. Now, a few words. Dig in, and watch the scones.”

“Does **everyone** feel the need to dig at my cooking?” Professor Kirkland blurted. “For Pete's sake, I didn’t cook any of this!”

“Good, that means there’ll be no deaths!” Peter yelled, unable to contain himself.

The majority of the students burst into laughter as Arthur turned a rather bright shade of red as he fought not to swear at Peter until the boy was deaf. After all, the innocent students’ virgin ears had to be protected, didn’t they?

“I’ll catch it during class, but that was sooo worth it!” Peter cackled. “I’ll have to owl Raivis later; I’m sure he’ll appreciate the humor that the great Sea-kun has to offer. Hmm, maybe I’ll write Kiku-san too…”

Harry shook his head while Ron outright guffawed at the boy’s statement. As he looked across the Hall he caught Luna’s eye – the blonde directed a smile at him before she started to eat. Shaking his head again, a small smile crossed Harry’s face as he too began to eat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you all enjoy the chapter? SG-chan hopes you did! ^^ And the next chapter will introduce the first of many (kinda) OCs! Well, the story could function without them, but I like to torture the characters some ^^


	5. Suddenly Popular

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greek: "\insert text\"
> 
> And words standing alone that are italicized are just foreign words - doesn't matter what language they're in.

"That little tosser is going to catch it once I have him in class," Arthur growled as the last of the students trailed out.

"Don't be traumatizing my Lions," Minerva growled right back.

"He's my brother; he's due a little "special treatment" every once in a while," Arthur argued. "Tino and Berwald spoil him far too much."

"You call your parents by their first names?" Filius wondered at the informality.

"Tino and Berwald are associates," the blond corrected him. "My parents have been dead for a long time."

"\Would that be Rome?\" Greece asked almost sarcastically.

"\Shut your trap you tosser; if this constant needling is about us not being fast enough during the war then I'm sorry already!\"

"\Huh, I didn't even think about that,\" Heracles mused, petting the cat in his arms. "\Thanks for the apology though.\"

"\Never would have taken this post if I'd known  **you**  would be here.\ I'm going to bed." The blond turned and stalked off, leaving a slightly smug Grecian and some confused teachers behind.

"The poor dears, losing their parents at so young an age," the Hufflepuff Head of house fretted.

"They weren't very good parents in the first place," Heracles divulged as he rose from his seat, petting the cat when it shifted in discomfort at being moved. "\None of us had very good parental figures during our youths.\" His fists clenched slightly as white against rough tan skin flickered through his memory. "I think I'll follow Kirkland's example and head to bed. Tomorrow is the first day after all." Another cat appeared seemingly out of nowhere and rubbed against Heracles' leg. He cooed Grecian platitudes at it, almost coaxing it to follow him as he headed out of the Hall and to his room.

"This year will definitely be interesting," Filius thought aloud, his shrewd gaze sliding to Minerva slightly.

"It'll be interesting all right," the woman glowered. She wasn't sure why it was Kirkland set her on edge in a way she hadn't felt since the height of Voldemort's first rise to power, and the fact that his younger brother was one of her lions did nothing to reassure her; in fact it only made her more wary.

* * *

"Should check the time," England muttered to himself as he plodded to the slightly more lavish than normal bathroom of his quarters. With a hand wave and silent _Tempus_  7:13 AM showed up in the air in shiny red numbers. "I have time," he mused. "Maeve."

A little faery with periwinkle hair and silver wings flew up to him. "Yes England?" she inquired.

"Could you and your sisters be a dear and get some food for me? I don't like asking House Elves; they fawn over me far too much."

Maeve giggled, a tinkling sound that lifted the nation's before-tea morning sulk. "I'm sure I can get Keira and Brigid to help me." She left through the wall, her light blue sundress seeming to melt into the stone as her presence left behind warmth and dust from her wings.

"First day," Arthur mumbled to himself as he removed his pajamas. "Why on earth did I take this job again? I'm not cut out to be a teacher."  _After all, I don't have the greatest background_ , he thought morosely to himself as he stepped in the shower.

A comfortable hum filled the room as Hogwarts sought to comfort one of her first students. England chuckled softly. She was a bit like a puppy, always trying to please people.  _Try not to do that too often dear._  He broadcasted his thoughts through the cloud of magic around him.  _I'd like for you not to be bothered, which you most certainly would be if people knew you were sentient._  A feeling of sad understanding surrounded him before Hogwarts drew her Magick back into herself. Arthur let her draw a bit of himself as well, a gift that would hopefully help her strengthen whatever she needed. True, Albus was a very powerful wizard, but there was nothing more potent than a nation's Magick.

By the time England had finished his shower, the scent of buttered toast and hot oatmeal was drifting in from the next room. "Ah, thank you darlings," he thanked the three little faeries who followed him most everywhere nowadays.

"No problem England!" Keira smiled warmly, her buttery wings folding behind her as she settled on the table by his food. "The small Elves in the kitchen were quite adamant on bringing it up themselves, but Brigid distracted them."

"I thought that was one of the reasons we were avoiding so-called "civilized" magic folk," Brigid muttered as she twirled a lock of primrose hair round her finger.

Keira frowned. "Barbarians, enslaving children like that..."

"I'll be covering that with the upper years," Arthur assured her, his voice muffled as he toweled his hair. "The younger children I'll start off small, as I don't want to overwork them too much."

"I wonder if..." Maeve trailed off, a slight blush on her face.

"What?" Arthur looked up, his hair even messier and more tangled than before. The three faeries exchanged glances. "What?"

"If we might..." Maeve trailed off again.

"She wants to tag along to classes," Keira chuckled, dodging Maeve's embarrassed flailing. The nation laughed at the youngest fae's reaction.

"Of course you can; all of you can come if you like. Just don't expect anyone to see you. So many people neglect the Sight nowadays; even those  **with**  Sight dismiss it almost entirely." England allowed himself a moment to reminisce before he shook himself out of it. "Dress, eat, and then off to my classroom."

* * *

The first class who had History of Magic were the Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw second-years. They had only had one year under Binns' tutelage, so they were probably the least likely to have been affected by the ghost's less than orthodox teaching methods aside from the new first years.

As soon as the bell had run, Arthur stood from where he'd been sitting behind his desk. "Good morning," he greeted. "As you probably already know, I'm Professor Kirkland. You all had Oswald Binns last year, correct?" There were several nods. "Right. Could someone tell me exactly what he taught you?"

A Hufflepuff in the first row raised his hand. "Yes, Mister…?"

"Daniel Mathers, sir," the boy said.

"Right; could you tell me what was covered during last year Mr. Mathers?"

"Well, Professor Binns taught us about the early Goblin rebellions of 1307, then moved onto the reign of the first female goblin ruler, Gris-"

"Yes, yes, did he cover anything other than goblins?" Daniel shook his head. Arthur sighed. "I suppose I have my work cut out for me then." He conjured a piece of chalk, then turned to the chalkboard behind him.

"We'll begin with a pretest. Everyone take out a piece of parchment and a quill, or a notebook and pen or pencil if you've stuck with what's familiar to you from the Muggle world. Try to answer the questions on the board to the best of your ability, and if you don't know, then just put what you think the answer would be."

By the time he'd finished explaining, three questions had been written on the board: "Who are the 4 Founders?" "How did the Great Wars affect magical people?" and "Why do you think you were sorted into the House you were sorted in?"

"15 minutes," Arthur clarified before he sat back down and opened up what looked like a crossword book.

* * *

"…and then he told us how the Sorting Hat was actually the result of a drunken argument between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, because she didn't believe that he hadn't used her diadem as an ashtray!" Dennis Creevey was excitedly regaling a majority of the Gryffindor third and first years with tales of Professor Kirkland's class. "Peter, your brother is so cool!"

"Meh, he's nothing special," the first year waved a hand in dismission. "You should see him when he gets drunk or starts ranting about the French; he's even  **worse**  than usual then."  _Plus, he doesn't ever acknowledge Sea-kun as a nation_ , he thought to himself.  _Damn you Jerk Arthur!_

"Still, he knows so much!" Dennis wondered. "It's like he was actually there!"

 _You don't know the half of it,_  Peter snarked mentally.

"Hey Peter, your brother isn't a vampire is he?"

"Vampires don't exist!" Peter scoffed. "The only true vampire who  **might**  exist lives in Romania." The students all stared at him in disbelief. Wondering if perhaps he'd gone too far, the micronation added hurriedly, "And all that history stuff just runs in our family. That Jerk's house is practically a museum, though less dusty and scarier." He looked around as if for eavesdroppers before whispering, "He likes to practice weird spells and stuff in the basement, and he's always claiming to see all these creatures that don't exist! So really, he's quite a jerk."

Unfortunately, all this information about their new teacher seemed to excite the students further, and as rumors had a way of spreading, by the next morning History of Magic was one of the most anticipated classes, and some people were regretting that they didn't take the subject anymore.

One of these was Ron.

"I mean, even if he  **is**  probably making up some of the stuff he's telling them, he sounds interesting!"

"Yes, but you didn't even get an A on your History OWLs, so you wouldn't be able to take it anyway," Hermione reminded him.

"I know, I know," Ron grumbled. "Harry, you're on my side, right?"

"Hmm?" the Boy-Who-Lived looked up from his book. "Wasn't paying attention, sorry."

"Are you still reading that… "Half-Blood Prince's" book?" Hermione scowled.

"Why not?" Harry shrugged. "It's been helpful so far."

"Oh, is that the reason for your Potions miracle?" Ron leaned over to look at the book. "Looks way too complicated for my liking, mate."

"He did scribble a lot in the margins, but there's kind of an order," Harry explained.

"It could be  **dangerous** ," the only girl insisted. "Remember the last time we trusted an unknown book?"

"That was a diary that wrote back to us," Harry argued. "This is a beat-up Potions book with notes scribbled in the margins."

"It doesn't mean it's safe!" Hermione persisted. As Harry continued ignoring her, she huffed and stomped off, muttering to herself something about Prefect duties.

"She's jealous," Harry muttered to Ron, who looked slightly amused at his friends' fight. "I've never done better than her in Potions, and now that I have she's getting all jealous."

"Whatever you say mate," Ron chuckled. "Just careful not to piss her off too much, yeah?"

"Yeah, sure," Harry muttered as he went back to his book.

Ron rose to leave; he too had prefects' duties after all. And maybe he could coax a smile or two out of Hermione if he found her. Merlin knows she looked beautiful when she smiled.

As he neared the Great Hall, he nearly tripped over something in the dark. Ron lit his wand with a Lumos to make sure it wasn't Mrs. Norris or, Merlin forbid, **McGonagall**  he'd tripped over. The redhead wasn't sure what to make of the sight of Professor Karpusi sprawled in the middle of the corridor, a large amount of cats snuggling up and around him.

"Uh, hey," Ron called softly. "Professor? Professor!"

Slate-green eyes opened and Greece lazily stared at the Gryffindor a moment before saying: "Yes?"

"Um, you're in the middle of the corridor sir," Ron explained, somewhat flustered that the Astronomy professor seemed so nonchalant about this. "You should probably move so that no one gets hurt."

"Hmm," Karpusi said. He stood, shushing several cats who made their displeasure at being moved known. "\Don't worry, I'll be back\," he assured them. "Thank you," he told the boy before departing soundlessly down the hall.

"Y-yeah," Ron replied slightly shakily. Kirkland and Slughorn were okay, but Karpusi was just plain  **weird**! "And it's like he's got a cat fetish or something," the redhead muttered to himself before he resumed his search for Hermione.

* * *

"Vee~ Ludwig!" Feliciano Vargas called as he entered his husband's study.

"Yes?" Said husband was busy working on some bill drafts. He took his position as a government employee quite seriously - too seriously, some, like his brother, said.

"I'm hungry," the Northern half of Italy pouted, hugging Ludwig around his neck. "I want fooooood."

"Feli, I'm working," Ludwig told him, trying to keep his face from erupting into flames at the feel of Feliciano's breath on his neck. "Just go make yourself some pasta."

"Nooo, I want some wurst!" Feliciano whined.

Ludwig turned around, torn between surprise and skepticism. "Is that supposed to be an innuendo?" he inquired.

"Do you want it to be?" Feliciano replied, a coquettish smile playing at his lips. At Ludwig's stern almost-glare (because trying to glare at Feliciano was like kicking a puppy) he fell back into his old whining. "Seriously though, I'm hungry! I want some wurst; you always make it so yummy!  _Per favore_?" He turned the full force of his puppy dog eyes (which had centuries of perfecting gone into it) on the blond, who merely sighed.

"All right Feli, I'll make you some wurst. Then I go back to work, okay?" Ludwig wanted to make sure that he was being clear, though knowing his Italian, he probably hadn't heard anything past "All right".

"Veee,  _grazie_  Ludwig!" Feliciano planted a kiss on his German's cheek. "Do you think you can make some sausages too?"

" _Ja_ ,  _ja_ ," Ludwig sighed, an affectionate smile playing upon his face. "I'll make you some sausages. And then I go back to work, okay?"

"Okay! Veee~"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Per favore_ : Italian for 'Please'
> 
>  _Grazie_ : Italian for 'Thanks'
> 
>  _Ja_ : German for 'Yes'
> 
> Quick explanations: When Arthur is talking about not bailing Greece out fast enough, it's a reference to during WWII when Greece was bombed by the Axis powers ;_; I have Arthur calling the World Wars the Great Wars because that's what my grandma (who is British) calls them, or at least calls WWII. Just in case anyone was confused. And the 'one true vampire' (ha, LOTR! XD) would be Romania (who will be appearing later dearies *smirks*), because another of SG-chan's headcanons is that nations were the basis for vampire myths, which shall probably be referenced throughout this story. Probably.
> 
> Have I mentioned how much I love writing Feli? And Ludwig for that matter; they're just so flipping cute! *fangirls incoherently* Ahem, anywho, I hope everyone enjoyed the slight Ron/Hermione and the GerIta ^^ I seriously love GerIta, it makes me all happy and I feel floaty inside and I ship them so hard that I just *more incoherent fangirling*
> 
> Sorry ^^;; Did y'all like the faeries? I hope you did ^^ And we got shirtless Iggy! In the shower *nosebleeds slightly* I am having way too much fun with this, that SG-chan is xD


	6. First Classes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Le obligatory language key~
> 
> Ancient English (Iggy's spells, etc.): "{insert text}"

_"{Are you sure you have to go?}" The little boy tugged on the knight's tunic._

_"{I'm sorry Albion, but I must. If we don't stop her where she is right now, she will grow and grow in power until nothing can stop her, not even Merlin himself.}"_

_"{I don't want you to go!}" Albion threw himself at the young man's legs, hugging him tightly._

_The knight bent, taking care not to accidentally bang the child with his shield. "{Albion, I know you can't fight, but there is something else you can do.}"_

_Eyes as green as the rolling moors looked up with fierce determination. "{What is it? Tell me how I can help!}"_

_"{Look after her while I'm gone,}" the knight told him, a soft yet sad smile playing on his lips. "{Keep her happy and smiling. You know how beautiful she looks when she's smiling.}"_

_"{All right,}" Albion nodded, his childish features scrunched into a serious expression as he thought of his task. "{I'll take good care of her.}"_

_"{Thank you,}" called the knight as he rose to depart, his fair hair slightly gleaming as the sunshine hit it in a certain way. "{I'll have such stories to tell you two when I come back!}"_

_But he never did._

* * *

"All right, who here has the text book from the previous course?" Arthur asked the sixth-years as soon as they were all seated. Only three people raised their hands – two Ravenclaws and a Gryffindor. "Good. Which year did you get these books in?"

"First year," Hermione, one of the three with a book, told him.

"At any point during the past five years have you used these?"

"Not really," Su Li, one of the other girls with a book, said quietly.

"Right." The professor rubbed his forehead slightly. "We have a lot of ground to cover then. You may keep these books, but we're not going to be using them. The criteria for entering the NEWT level of this class was achieving an Acceptable on your OWLs; sadly not many people got even that. I won't be expecting too much from you, but I'm not going to let you slack off either. I imagine most of you passed your OWLs through independent study, correct?" A chorus of nods. "Then I will start the same way I did with the younger years, a pretest. Any questions?" Immediately, the lone Gryffindor's hand went up. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Will you be covering recent events?" the brunette asked.

"I assume you're referring to the recent return of He-Who-Wishes-He-Had-A-Better-Name, a.k.a. Lord Voldemort?" He smirked slightly at the witch's nod. "One of the reasons I took up this post was to teach the generation of today how the past repeats itself, Miss Granger. I think it's safe to say that at some point we will have a unit wherein we will compare the events of today's world with those centuries past."

"You aren't afraid of the Dark Lord and his reactions?" Draco Malfoy spoke rather quietly, a far cry from his normal boisterous attitude.

"Leaving out the fact that Hogwarts is one of the safest places in the United Kingdom, I have lived through many things that by rights I shouldn't." The professor's green eyes – a lot like Harry's, Hermione realized – grew slightly hazy as if he were not seeing the room in front of him anymore. "I was sorted into Slytherin during a time when the House was not known for being full of purebloods, or a bed of supremist nonsense, but when it was a place for people who wanted to make something of themselves in this world, wanted to change it, mostly for the better.

"I'm sure none of you knew this, but the Salazar Slytherin who left Hogwarts was actually the fifth of that name. He left to join the Crusades in the Holy Land and never came back. The first Salazar Slytherin, the founder, did indeed want to exclude Muggleborns, but that was because he himself was Muggleborn, and knew the hate and prejudice they would suffer for being different. History has a way of always repeating itself, sometimes in quite twisted ways…" England trailed off as if he realized he was going off-topic. "To answer your question Mr. Malfoy, I do not fear him, but rather I hate him. He had so much potential and could have done so much good in the world, but instead chose to waste it all on an idiotic self-given quest to "restore" the Wizarding World that has culminated in a war that is killing more people than it saves." The fierce emotion in the professor's voice held the students as if entranced, so much so that the fact what he had told them went against nearly everything they'd ever heard or been taught didn't matter right then, because he was hurting so **much**.

"Now then, if you please take out quill and parchment – or pen and paper – for the pretest…"

The spell was broken and the full weight of the story they had been told rested heavily in the sixth-years' minds, and just what it meant if Professor Kirkland's words were true…

* * *

"I think I did rather well," Arthur commented to his three spectators. "Comments? Critique?"

"An observation," Keira replied. "The students appeared shocked enough by what you told them today; maybe go a bit easier on them?"

"They're sixth years, they can handle it," England disagreed. "Besides, it's hardly my fault that the main texts that have survived all these years are all penned by jealous rivals or spurned lovers. That's where we get the whole Gryffindors are idiots you know – not that they aren't, but a female student had the most enormous crush on Godric, and when he rejected her, well… You know the saying; "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned"."

"You have students England," Brigid reminded him.

"Oh yes. Dreadfully sorry about that," the nation apologized to his class of slightly weirded out fifth year Ravenclaws. "Faeries tend to make me extremely chatty. Now, do any of you have your books?" More people raised their hands than in his previous class. "Right. Well, we won't be using them, so you don't have to bother bringing them to this class." Several people looked slightly relieved while a couple looked scandalised. A raised hand caught Arthur's attention. "Yes, Miss...?"

"Lovegood," the blonde replied with a dreamy stare. "I was wondering, what are the faeries' names?"

"Ah, well the one on the left here is Maeve, the one in brown is Keira, and the brooding one is Brigid."

"Thank you," Luna smiled.

"You're welcome. Now, as I'm sure you've heard, there will be a pretest. This is just to gauge where you are as a class on history in general. If you don't know the answer, just put down what you think is correct. Take out, if you would, quill and parchment..."

* * *

Peter was annoyed. Now, this wasn't actually much different than normal, and like nearly every other time he was annoyed, the source was his older brother, one Arthur Kirkland, a.k.a. the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Now don't get him wrong, his other brothers were okay (okay as in they didn't blatantly declare he wasn't a country like England did), and he and Sean had even gone spelunking one time and gotten high off some of the pot that they'd wheedled out of his nearly invisible - cousin? brother? Well, Canada was related to him  **somehow**  - sort of friend.

To get back on the subject of why Peter was annoyed. It centered on Arthur, as per usual.

See, the reason that Peter had even agreed to go to this magic school (he'd been getting invitations from them for the last twenty-five years) was because he thought that if he knew magic then maybe, just maybe Arthur would finally at least acknowledge him for something other than being a brat who tried to sneak into world meetings. The only nations who even really acknowledged that magic existed and was a large part of their daily lives were England, Norway, Haiti, and probably some of the smaller Pacific Islands. He knew Fiji liked to scare other nations by nonchalantly eating various body parts in front of them. Magic existed but no one was really willing to touch that ginormous elephant in the room known as the world.

But it wasn't even the fact that Arthur had threatened to owl (and seriously, owls? When would the British Wizarding World come out of the dark ages?) his papa in front of the entire school right after he'd been Sorted that had him so annoyed. No, it was because his first class, he'd embarrassed him in front of the entire class - really, asking him about stuff that had happened  **way**  before he was born - and about England, no less! No matter how much the former empire tried to put on the gentleman front, deep down he was just a jerk, a damn jerk that didn't know how hard he tried to be  **good**  for him, and how it hurt that even if he did deserve it for insulting his cooking skills in front of so many people (and really, his cooking was  **really**  bad) he didn't have to insult Sealand like that (notice me, please, anything, just don't  **ignore**  me), even if it was just in front of a bunch of human children.

A steely determination filled Peter as he realized that he couldn't afford to play nice anymore if he was going to get That Jerk to acknowledge the Great Sea-kun. It was time to break out the things that nice pair of twins from Diagon Alley had given him in return for a promise to carry on their legacy and cause havoc. Oh, he would cause havoc all right. Hogwarts would soon bow before the might of the awesome Sealand! Mwa ha ha ha ha!

...Hmm, he needed to work on his evil laughter. Maybe he could get Raivis to pass on a question to Mr. Russia on how to rule through fear.

* * *

By the end of the week everyone thought that although Professor Kirkland was clearly insane, his classes were very interesting.

"Seven times," Heracles remarked casually at dinner.

"What?" England asked.

"The times people asked me about my cats in the past week," the Grecian replied.

"Oh yes, they  **are**  rather attached to you, aren't they?" the Briton remarked as he cut his food into bite-sized pieces. "I forget, are they your army or your pets?"

"Both," Heracles replied. "Army first and foremost though. They're good for calming Kiku down too."

"Speaking of which, has he written you lately?"

"No. Why?"

"Oh, I just waned to ask him to bring my papers to the next meeting. I have to give him the password in order to get past the barrier; I'm still not sure how the frog got in, but I've updated my security since then."

"Couldn't you get one of the Commonwealth to get it?"

"I don't trust any of them in my house," England muttered before he viciously stabbed the food.

"Harsh. If he writes me I'll tell him; shame electronics don't work here."

"Hmm, yes. It's probably because Hogwarts' ambient magick is so large. Even using pure iron to shield it might not work, especially with how many plastic components are used in technology nowadays. If the entire thing were to be made of iron it might work, but it'd be damned heavy," the blond theorized.

"Hmm..." Greece mused.

"Excuse me Kirkland!"

England turned to Slughorn, who was calling him as he came up to the staff table. "Yes?"

"Would you mind meeting me later? I've got something I'd like to talk to you about."

"Oh, all right," Arthur accepted, blinking slightly in bewilderment. While it was true he wasn't so bad at potions, he was by no means a genius, and even barring the fact that no one here, including Greece, knew of his prowess, he couldn't think of a reason why Slughorn would want to talk to him.

 _Well_ , the blond thought as he resumed eating.  _I guess I'll find out later._

* * *

"Ahh, Arthur - I may call you that, right? - so glad to see you!" Horace welcomed England into his quarters with a booming chuckle and a slap on the back. "We haven't been able to become acquainted yet, as I already know most everyone else. Would you like something to drink?" He waved a hand towards a bottle of wine on the side table.

"No, tea is just fine," Arthur insisted.

"Ah. Mopsy!"

A small House-Elf popped into existence. "Is Professor Slughorn be needing - Lord Kirkland!" The elf immediately prostrated itself on the floor, babbling nearly indistinguishable praises in its own language.

"{Please stop}," Arthur sighed. "{Just ignore my presence.}"

"Y-yes, Lord Kirkland," Mopsy squeaked, eyes wide with reverance.

"Um, yes, one tea please," Slughorn stuttered slightly, his cool facade slipping.

"Earl Grey," Arthur clarified and the elf squeaked before popping back out of the room. "I'm dreadfully sorry about that; it's why I don't normally use House Elves; they tend to act like that."

"You deserve it though; they know who's on top," Brigid nodded to herself.

"Brigid, shush," England scolded, only slightly surprised she had followed him. "Go play with your sisters or Minty."

"Fine," the dark fae pouted and flew off through the wall.

"I apologize, Brigid was being rather rude," he apologized to Slughorn, who twitched slightly before smiling nervously.

"So, I've been hearing things from the students. You know I took over for Severus as the Head of Slytherin, but he knows the students better than me, so I consult with him at times." Arthur raised an eyebrow, as if prompting him to go on. Horace licked his lips nervously. "You're a fellow Snake Arthur, if what I've been hearing from the sixth-years is true, you know what it's like, to be under someone's thumb..."

"You want some sort of protection from the Dark Lord," Arthur concluded.

"The way with which you spoke of him-" Horace cut off as Mopsy appeared again with a steaming cup of Earl Grey.

"{Thank you,}" Arthur murmured. The elf squeaked delightedly before disappearing again.

"You surely must have some reason you don't fear him," the Potions professor began as soon as he was sure they were alone. "Some way to protect yourself, or some sort of blackmail on him-"

"You don't trust that Albus can protect you," the blond stated, not questioned.

"Look at everything that's happened in the past five years!" Horace argued. "The Dark Lord possessed a Defense professor, a Basilisk petrified several students and nearly killed one, an escaped criminal disguised himself as Mad-Eye Moody for Merlin's sake! You can't tell me that that wouldn't put a damper on your faith in him!"

"Why me though?" Arthur asked, glancing over the top of his teacup. "I'm not that old after all, and even if I do have something to hold over Riddle's head, what makes you think-"

"I remember you," Slughorn interrupted. "50 years ago, when Slytherin's creature was let loose the first time and Myrtle Cestko was killed - at her funeral, I remember seeing you and Albus conversing, and later I saw you coming out of his office. I know he has a high tolerance for people, even those with creature blood, and here you are, 50 years later, looking no different than back then!"

"You... you think I'm a vampire or something?" England chuckled. Slughorn froze at the sound. "Vampires are nothing but myths, Professor. There is only one who might be considered what is classed today as a "vampire", and he likes his privacy. No, I am nothing like that. As for fearing Voldemort, it is not because of some sort of protection I possess, but because the only thing he is to me is a nuisance."

"Th-the darkest man in recent generations a nuisance?" Slughorn sputtered, slumping into his chair. "Maybe I was wrong and you're just crazy!"

"Maybe," England shrugged as he sipped his tea. "The "Dark Lord" hardly knows **Dark**  magick. True Dark magicks would have corrupted his soul so much that he would not have been able to create so much as one Horcrux. Yes, he did," he answered in reply to Slughorn's sudden intake of breath. "That's why you took up this post, correct? To hide from him."

"How - did Albus?" the Potions professor croaked.

"There is little in this land I do not know," the blond replied cryptically, a deceivingly gentle smile on his face. "And I like to think myself a good judge of character. Thank you for the tea Horace; it was lovely. Feel free to invite me again any time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder if it's bad that I thoroughly enjoyed writing that bit where Slughorn got freaked out. Meh, who cares? Not SG-chan! XDXD
> 
> Oh, and a big 'Thank you!' goes out to XIII-Jinx-XIII from FF.net for catching that Circe is Greek. I've gone back and changed those little bits now - and SG-chan shall be thoroughly double-checking all the mythology she uses from now on! And also making sure she spells magick correctly - at least when England's talking about it, because he treats it as those who follow the old traditions do - not like those newfangled people nowadays xD;; My friends who are Wiccan have corrupted me it seems (and wouldn't my mother have a fit upon hearing that XD)...


	7. Interludes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No language key this chappie~

"What's up with you and Slughorn?" Heracles asked from the doorway of Arthur's classroom after his class of third year Gryffindor-Hufflepuffs had left. "He's been on tiptoes around you for the past couple days."

"Oh, I just had a little talk with him over tea – he seems to think that I'm a vampire or some sort of undead creature."

"Why?"

The blond lifted his head from his desk where he was arranging some papers. He sighed and muttered under his breath. Greece watched impassively as the walls of the room lit up a light blue before dimming, the soft hum of protective magicks filling the room. "No chance of anyone eavesdropping on us now," England explained before he went into the story of the events of fifty years ago that centered around a young Tom Riddle.

"There's a basilisk under this school?" was Greece's first question.

"No, she's dead now; she was killed three years ago when Riddle managed to open the chamber by possessing a student."

Greece, who knew more about the undead than probably anyone but Egypt, nodded in understanding. "You came to the girl's funeral?"

"And also to investigate who let Sarana loose," Arthur added. He sighed wistfully. "She told me that it wasn't the student being accused, but she also told me that the real perpetrator had never let her see him, always taking care to stay cloaked in shadows – hardly enough proof to exonerate someone."

"You understand Parseltongue?" Greece was just a teensy bit impressed.

"I was the first to be Sorted into Slytherin; the Founder himself thought it a great honor to be teaching his country and swore he'd make sure I would, at the very least,  **remember**  his legacy." England winced. "He was quite the taskmaster."

"It's been a long time since I had a teacher," Heracles remarked almost wistfully. "Mother said to leave magic to the gods and sorcerers. It didn't stop Father from teaching me little tricks, though."

"Speaking of which, the groundskeeper has a Cerberus, or so I hear."

Heracles gave a tiny wince. "I know. I'm the one who… sold it to him. He isn't a proper hellhound more a crossbreed."

At this point England was bent over laughing. "Oh, that is  **far**  too amusing!  **You**  couldn't handle a hellhound crossbreed?"

"To be fair, he was part… werewolf," Heracles grumbled.

"By Math's fortune," the blond chortled. He canceled the protective spells with a wave of his hand. "Do drop by if you want to give me a laugh again."

"Fuck you Kirkland," Greece growled.

"Sorry, you're not my type and Kiku would kill me," England drawled, his pirate smirk firmly in place. "Now, we don't want to be traumatizing the children, so shoo. I have a class coming up."

"Your cooking sucks," Greece threw out before he left.

"I am  **not**  a bad cook! You all just have no sense of taste!" England yelled down the hall after him.

"That would be Alfred!" was the remote retort.

"Fucking layabout, always insulting my cooking the bleeding little…" Arthur's seething trailed off as he came face-to-face with a rather scared-looking first year. "Ignore him," the blond told the child before entering his classroom. The first year followed, horribly confused.

* * *

"Liet!"

Toris Laurinaitis sighed wearily at the petulant whine coming from down the hall. "What is it Feliks?" he called.

"Like, there's a letter here that's for your, like, little brother figure! Ya know, what's-his-name who's, like, always shaking and stuff?"

"You mean Latvia?" Lithuania reminded his – what exactly was Poland to him anyway? They weren't quite  **just**  friends, but then again, they weren't basically married like Germany and Italy or Sweden and Finland were.  _Roommates_ , Toris decided.  _Roommates who occasionally have sex with one another._

...God, that sounded bad even inside his head.

"Who's it from?" Toris asked in an attempt to forget what he'd just thought. He walked down the hallway to the foyer where Feliks was sorting through the mail.

"One of the Kirklands. That's funny, like, I don't remember one of them being named Peter. Is that the guy, who, like, is always being followed around by, like, an albino panda bear?" Toris almost chuckled at the frown on Feliks' face. Really, he looked quite cute when he thought too hard like that.

"I think you're thinking of Canada, and it's a polar bear he carries around, not an albino panda; that's China," Lithuania chided.

"Huh, I didn't know China carried, like, an albino panda around with him," Poland said in an almost awestruck tone.

"No no, China has a  **panda** ; nobody has an albino anything!" Lithuania insisted. At the confused look from Poland the brunette sighed. Why did he even bother anymore? "Never mind. If it's someone from the United Kingdom then it's most likely Sealand. I guess he got Raivis' address confused with ours since he did live here for a while."

"I don't get why people can't just, like, text! I mean, it's so much faster and easier, seriously!" Feliks stated his opinion. "Handwriting letters is, like, so overrated nowadays."

Toris didn't know whether to facepalm or sigh melodramatically, so he just settled for finding a pen and writing Raivis' actual address on the envelope back. He frowned slightly at the crest used to seal the envelope shut. It looked so familiar, reminding him of the times before he was beset by Prussia in multiple religious wars, times when pagan gods ruled over his people and the ancient and wild magicks of his land made his blood run red-hot in both anticipation and excitement. Lithuania shook his head. Those times were long past now, especially in this modern age...

* * *

"Hello Harry," Luna greeted as the boy came down from his room.

"Luna?" Jade green eyes blinked bewilderingly. "What are you doing in the Gryffindor common room?"

"Oh, Ginny and I had a girl's night – I'm waiting for her to get up and I thought I'd take a look at the scenery." For some reason Luna's usual dreamy stare seemed to focus on his chest. Strange.

"Oh, all right." Harry turned to go but stopped as Luna called him back.

"I was wondering Harry, are you going to start the DA up again? Ginny was going to ask, but she keeps forgetting."

"Uh, well, not really. Not that I wouldn't want to, but I haven't thought about it." Harry ran a hand through his already messy hair as he smiled rather sheepishly. "I've been elected as Captain of the Quidditch team you know, so this year will actually probably be a lot busier than last."

"Oh, I see. Well, if you do decide to start it again, please tell me. I liked your classes." Luna smiled at him, her expression strangely lucid for once.

"I'll make sure to," the boy nodded. "How's your… project coming along?"

"Oh, rather well, thanks for asking." Luna's smile grew wider. "Professor Kirkland actually has some faeries following him about, so they've been quite helpful in making my scrapbook. I think this year will be my most productive yet."

"That's great Luna," Harry grinned at the contagiousness of her childish enthusiasm – and now he had at least kind of an explanation for the rumors he'd heard about Kirkland talking to thin air. "I've got to be getting to breakfast now, so I'll see you later."

"Bye Harry," Luna waved from the couch. "Think about DA, and tell me whichever way you decide."

"Will do," he promised.

 _Now where is Hermione's chair?_  Luna thought to herself as soon as Harry had left and she was alone in the common room. What she told him had been the truth, but she was also assisting Ginny in her quest to get Ron and Hermione together.  _Ginny said it was blue… oh, that one in the corner!_

"Now, a couple of runes to facilitate awareness… and now a bit of camouflage…" Luna sat back with a satisfied smile at her handiwork. Now maybe Hermione would stop concentrating on her schoolwork long enough to notice Ron and his (passable) attempts at wooing her. "Ginny owes me big for this," the blonde muttered. "Like Muggle energy drinks big."

* * *

Peter cackled evilly to himself as he finished the last touches to his masterpiece. Let's see That Jerk ignore him now! It  **really**  had been nice of those twins to give him such a discount on these paints...

 _Hmm, I need to sign it somehow_ , Peter thought, frowning in consternation.  _I know, my flag! Ha, take_ that _Jerk Arthur! The Magnificent Sea-kun strikes again!_

The micronation didn't notice his watchers as he bounded away.

"Should we tell England?" Maeve wondered, tapping her fingers together in imitation of one of the animated characters from a show Japan had sent England.

"Yes, just so he doesn't go too hard on the boy," Keira decided. "After all, he is still so young, and England knows what it's like to try to gain the approval of an older sibling."

"I do like his flag though," Maeve commented as she hovered over Peter's prank. "It's pretty.

"C'mon little one, save your crushing for your own species," Keira chuckled, pushing a suddenly tomato-faced Maeve through the air.  _Hmm, I wonder what Brigid is getting up to..._

* * *

"Fuck it all!" Draco Malfoy swore to himself as he shut the big and rather old book rather harshly.

"Dray, calm down and look at the bright side of things," Blaise Zabini drawled from the other side of the room. "At least you haven't been assigned some impossible task like killing Dumbledore or something."

"Shut up Zabini, you are not helping my concentration any!" the blond seethed as he ran a hand through normally perfectly slicked back hair. "You have nothing to worry about, all your problems are back in Italy!"

"Ah, not all," the other teen corrected. "My mamma is a firm believer in making sure I don't try to pull anything off under her nose or behind her back, so she gets monthly progress reports mailed to her. Normally only Mudblood families use that sort of thing, but Mamma doesn't wish for anything I do to upset her patron." He shivered slightly. " _Signore_  Vargas gets very scary when he's angry."

"Tch," Draco scoffed. "It's not as if the Mafia, magical or otherwise, has a very long reach here in England anyway; it's not as if we're in some kind of cheap American mobster film after all."

Across the Atlantic one Alfred F. Jones sneezed. He thought for a moment that maybe he was coming down with a cold, but then dismissed the thought entirely, because he was way too heroic to catch a cold! And before anyone said anything, the Great Depression didn't count, not at all.

...Yeah, and Francis was both a virgin  **and**  celibate.

"Ah, but you don't understand!" Blaise waved a finger, a stern expression on his face. " _Famiglia_  is everything to an Italian,  _si_? Through some long and twisted relationship that I'll probably never understand - and, quite frankly, probably don't want to - even before the Dark Lord began his conquest, Italy and the United Kingdom, to some extent, have shared some sort of dark, secret bond. Mamma says it has something to do with Rome, common backgrounds, and dealing with idiots - I think it's because both countries have famous magical tourist traps."

"You are impossible," Draco groaned. "Do me a favor and help me go through this next book - maybe you can use your Italian "charm" and get the answers I want out of there. And no, I'm not telling you my mission," he said as he saw Blaise open his mouth.

"I wasn't going to ask that," the dark-skinned Italian protested slightly, though from Draco's raised eyebrow he knew the other didn't believe him. "You'll tell me when you need to, I know that much. Now, how about I put my irresistable  **Sicilian**  charm to work, hmm?"

"Isn't that part of Italy?" Draco was slightly confused at the emphasis.

"Yes, but it's totally different! You don't think I tan this well through genetics, hmm?" Blaise waggled his eyebrows as Draco rolled his eyes. "Now let's get down to business..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Signore_ : Italian for 'Mister'
> 
>  _Famiglia_ : Italian for 'family'
> 
>  _Si_ : Italian for 'yes'
> 
> Oh, SG-chan had a lot of fun writing this xD And before anyone asks, no, Blaise is not Sicily or any other nation-tan. Sicily is his mother, he knows nothing about the nations, and he merely knows Lovino as the (extremely) ill-tempered mafia don who is his mamma's patron XDXDXD Like I said, I had a lot of fun writing this. And poor Liet, you'll be dragged into this soon enough honey ^^;
> 
> And... is that actual plot that appeared this chapter? *le gasp* Get used to it, it'll be happening more and more often xD;;


	8. Forseeing the Wurst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, but SG-chan had so much _FUN_ writing this chapter *evil grin* Oh, and Lilli is the name that I use for Leichtenstein. Just saying *le wink* 
> 
> Oh, and by the way, apparently the most spoken languages in Switzerland are German and French XDXDXDXD
> 
> No key this chappie.

Sybil Trelawney was used to being taken as a deranged old woman with strange glasses who had probably had one glass of sherry too many on most days. Even those who knew she actually did possess the gift to prophesy didn't take her that seriously (she knew exactly what Albus was doing, putting her class in the topmost tower like some modern-day Rapunzel).

Which is why when she first met Arthur Kirkland, the newest piece in Albus's little game, and he actually started a conversation on her on which form of divination she found more accurate, palmistry or the reading of tea leaves, she immediately became suspicious. After all, you don't just make idle conversation with someone of her… reputation.

Kirkland actually seemed to value her company, surprisingly enough. Every Saturday, around eight or so, he would drop by with a plate of blackened lumps that he claimed were scones. Sybil had learned how to interpret body language over the years and the man didn't seem to be insincere, but it didn't take a seer to realize that the so-called food was inedible. Perhaps Albus's other, insignificant thus far, pawn Karpusi knew what he was talking about.

It was the first weekend of October when she began to suspect he did not actually have any ulterior motives in spending time with her and perhaps he just enjoyed spending time with someone who was just as strange as he was rumored to be.

* * *

"Hmm, should I wear the blue or purple ribbon today?" Lilli Zwingli wondered. "Or maybe I could wear the hat Miss Hungary bought me when we went shopping last week." As she contemplated just what precisely she should wear she suddenly felt something knocking against the Impenetrable Barrier of Neutrality that she and her bruder shared. "Hmm, I wonder who that could be?" Leichtenstein rose from her chair and went down the hall two doors.

"Bruder?" she knocked on the door. She heard the sound of metal clattering, followed by a muttered:

"No, his hair does  **not**  look soft! Not at all!"

"Oh dear, he's in one of his moods again," she sighed, shaking her head. "I guess I'd better go see what's going on for myself then."

Living with a brother like Vash was annoying sometimes in his over protectiveness of her, but one of the things he'd drilled into her (besides the fact that the rest of the world was cruel and evil and she should never go anywhere with strangers) was that retreat was not dishonorable at all and had thus taught her many different forms of magical transportation. As it was, she didn't even need to nation-step and appeared with a soft 'plip' at the shimmering barrier that was invisible to all save nations and those who wished her and her bruder harm.

A group of strangely-dressed people in black dresses no wait, they were robes stood in front of the IBoN™, arguing among themselves. Hmm, they looked familiar… had her bruder drawn them during one of her training sessions?

"Excuse me," she called, catching the group's attention. "Can I help you?"

There was a short muttering between the people before one man came forward. "I demand you drop this barrier!" he exclaimed. "It is hindering our path!"

"You wouldn't be able to see it if you had good intentions," Lilli replied. Really, their outfits looked so familiar… "Would you mind telling me who you are?"

"This is getting us nowhere!" another man snarled as he stepped out from the group, a stick in his hand. "Crucio!"

The sickly yellow beam met the shining barrier, dissipating as soon as it hit.

"I told you, you wouldn't be able to see it if you didn't have bad intentions," Lilli shook her head. "Leichtenstein and Switzerland are neutral after all."

"Go to hell!" the same man screeched in English, his language charm that had been allowing him to speak German slipping.

"Oh, so you speak English!" Lilli clapped her hands together. "Would any of you like tea?"

"What?"

"What's she talking about?"

"Crazy girl."

"I  **could**  go for a spot of tea though…"

"You all must be from England if you like tea then," the girl deduced. Watching that new movie of Mr. America's had been so helpful also, Mr. Law and Mr. Downey looked  **very** pretty together. A slight blush covered her face as she disappeared, leaving behind a bewildered group of Death Eaters.

"Bruder!" Lilli knocked on Vash's bedroom door. "Bruder, some strange people from Mr. England's place are being rude at the Impenetrable Barrier of Neutrality!"

She sweat dropped at the sound of metal (still) clattering and more mutterings like, "No, Mariazell does  **not**  act like the Italies' curls!" Lilli held a handkerchief to her nose at the sudden mental image.

"I guess I'll have to deal with them myself. Now where does bruder keep his long range assault rifles?"

* * *

For nearly twenty minutes after the strange blonde girl had left, the Death Eaters threw nearly every spell they could think of at the strange barrier. They had been sent to secure an alliance with (read: bully) the gnomes in Switzerland since the Gringotts goblins had refused to take a side in the war, since all they cared about was money.

"Holy shit!" one of the new recruits screeched when the guy next to him keeled over as his brains splattered all over.

"I'm sorry to take such drastic measures, but will you be so kind as to leave now?" The volume of the girl's voice made it obvious she was a distance away, her voice magnified by a 'Sonorus'.

"Coward! Come out and face us head on!" the leader demanded.

"Your spells can't go through the Impenetrable Barrier of Neutrality, but if you insist." With a soft 'plip' the girl appeared in front of them with what looked to be a funny Muggle gun held tightly, the butt of it pressed against her shoulder. "Will you leave now please? I'm only doing this so you won't bother bruder; he gets so annoyed when he's interrupted during his 'Austria-brooding time'. Really, Miss Hungary says he should just jump him already, but bruder's always been so shy… Oh, were you saying something?"

During her mini-rant, her trigger finger had taken over and now all but two of the group were dead with well-placed shots to the head. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to do that," Leichtenstein fretted, though she did not lay her gun down. "If you could tell me where to send the bodies to, I'd be much obliged."

"Y-you're fucking insane!" the shorter (and stupider) of the men left shrieked.

"That isn't a very nice thing to say at all," Lilli frowned, shaking her head. "I think I've been quite polite already. If bruder were here, he wouldn't have hesitated in killing you at all."

"Just tell her and maybe she won't kill us!" the younger (and taller) of the duo begged.

"No! The Dark Lord himself will kill us if we don't return with the gnomes' answer!" the shorter retorted. "Avada Kedavra!" he yelled, and the green beam shot straight at Leichtenstein.

It collided with the IBoN™ and for a moment there was a hissing sound as the two magicks fought one another. In the end, certain death could not hope to beat neutrality, and Lilli stood there, unfazed, as the remaining Death Eaters wet themselves.

"England, we're from England! I'm sorry, just don't hurt me! I ate my brother's candy when he was seven, and told him that the candy monsters took it and would come for him next, I broke my next-door neighbor's window when I was ten, I…" the taller of the men broke down crying as he continued with his confessions.

"Oh dear," Leichtenstein muttered to herself as she watched the other man fall down, his mouth foaming and eyes rolling to the back of his head. "It's a good thing I didn't bother bruder with this he and Mr. England don't get along very well at all." With a worried glance at the sobbing man, Leichtenstein swung the rifle strap across her shoulder, then crossed the IBoN™ to gather the bodies.

* * *

"Ah, nothing like a good cuppa at the end of the day," Arthur murmured to himself as he toed off his shoes as he sat on his bed. He smiled, humming happily as the scent of the tea wafted up to his nose form the cup.

"England, a mysterious large crate just poofed into existence in the parlor!"

The blond sighed and put his cup down on the nightstand. "What's this all about then Brigid?"

"Huge mysterious crate, like I just said," the darkest-haired fae told him.

"I wonder what's in it?" Maeve flew around the large crate that was rectangular in shape.

"Hmm, there's a note," Arthur noted. He pulled it off and his eyes widened at what it read.

_Dear Mr. England,_

_Hello! I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you at all. Earlier today a group of rather rude men who were from England, if their babbling was anything to go by, tried to get through me and bruder's Impenetrable Barrier of Neutrality. I told them not to but they tried anyway. Bruder was busy so I took care of them don't worry, they're all in one piece so it should be easy to identify them^. Two men should have turned themselves in to your police force by now, so their testimonies should corroborate this. Are we still going to have our get-together in November? Mr. Feliks asked me to asked you because he and Mr. Toris are going to be 'like, totes incommunicado' for a while. Again, I'm sorry if I disturbed you during tea time or something similar. I've been trying to get time zones down but they're still a little bit difficult to remember sometimes. Hopefully I got it right this time._

" _^.^" Lilli Zwingli_

Arthur groaned as he palmed his face. "Great, I have a crate of dead bodies in my parlor." He sighed heavily. "I could really go for a good pint of Ogden's right now." Instead, the island nation sat down and sat about penning his own note to attach to the crate, chastising the aurors for allowing Death Eaters to try to get into Switzerland in the first place. He took a moment to look into the crate and whistled softly.

"Damn good shot she is," he murmured. He took Lilli's note and pocketed it before he attached his own note to the crate.

"Shouldn't you disguise your handwriting?" Keira reminded him.

"Why do you think I wrote it with my other hand?" Arthur questioned, but cast a quick charm on it just in case.

"Why does it look like an old lady's handwriting?" Maeve wondered.

"Because I'm tired and I want my tea," England growled before he stalked off to his bedroom.

"Shouldn't he have taken care of that?" Maeve pointed at the crate.

"Ah, we might as well do it," Brigid decided. "Don't want to stink the place up now, do we? C'mon," she motioned for her sisters to help her.

"Are you sure you know where we're teleporting it?" Maeve fretted.

"Stop being such a worry wart!" Brigid scowled, her dark cloak billowing behind her. "Keira, shut her up would you?"

"Let's just get this out of here," the eldest of the three sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, there is now fanart that I have done of Keira, Brigid and Maeve if you'd like to see it ^^
> 
> http://stargatenerd.deviantart.com/art/England-s-Little-Helpers-276884889


	9. Franco-Anglo Relations (Or Lack Thereof)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, the shipteasing x3 
> 
> Le key: 
> 
> French: " _insert text_ "

England awoke the morning of Samhain (more commonly known as Halloween) feeling quite refreshed. The one good thing about taking this job was that he'd already finalized all the ritual preparations months ago. He'd had a feeling that he wouldn't have any time when it actually came down to it, and he was right.

He hummed happily as he stretched all the kinks from his back. The air was practically alive with energy as the castle herself prepared for the passing of the old year. Arthur himself just couldn't wipe the smile off his face as he got dressed for his first class of the day, which would be the sixth-years. He couldn't  **wait**  for the costume party tonight; he'd be able to let some of his old punk self loose.

 _Hmm, piercings or no piercings?_  Arthur wondered to himself. I-it wasn't like he was trying to attract anyone's attention (he put the image of a certain American out of his mind) or anything, and it wasn't as if anyone else would even remember the '60s and '70s, at least from the Muggle perspective…

 _Fuck it_ , Arthur decided as he set the box of piercings on his table so he could easily access it later.  _If no one likes it then that is their problem, not mine._

He opened the door and immediately stepped to the right as he'd been informed of Peter's 'prank'.  _Really_ , England though smugly as the paint buckets splashed where he'd been standing,  _you have to get up far earlier to get one up on the British Empire._

Firmly smug, he didn't notice that there was now a paper stuck to the back of his sweater vest that read: "I <3 Florida!" with a small flag that was most definitely not British or American in the bottom right corner.

* * *

"All right!" Arthur clapped his hands together, a gleeful grin on his face. "Does everyone know what today is?"

"It's Halloween," Hermione was the first to speak.

"Yes and no," Arthur corrected her. "Today is what  **non-magical**  folk call Halloween; the proper name is actually All Hallow's Eve, or if you celebrate the old ways, Samhain, which is the Celtic New Year. Tonight is when the power of the dead is at its greatest, and when we pay our respects to those who have passed on before us." A sad soft look crossed his face before he turned around to write on the board. "Now, there are two categories those who celebrate Samhain usually fit into, the-"

He was cut off by a few giggles, prompting him to turn around. "May I ask what is so funny?" The blond's impressive eyebrows furrowed together irritably as he glared at his class.

"You have, er, a paper stuck to your back sir," Padma Patil snickered lightly.

"What?" Arthur craned his head to see the paper stuck to his back but failed. He gave a huff of frustration before finally just shucking his vest in order to gain a look at the paper. "Wha- Peter," England growled, the paper crinkling as his grip on it tightened. "I'm going to ground him to that hunk of metal he calls a country himself-"

"Why  _rosbif_ , I did not know you thought that way! Worry not, you do not have to undress yourself in my presence."

It was merely instinct and the fact that the damn frog was holding onto his  **fucking ankle**  that made him screech quite shrilly, thank you very much!

"Wh-wh-what the fuck are you doing here frog?" England spluttered as Francis dragged himself (somehow elegantly) from underneath the Englishman's desk.

"Why, I was merely in the neighborhood and I decided to drop by and visit you  _rosbif_. Surely you cannot deny me the… pleasure of your company?" The last bit was nearly purred and Arthur's mind froze in barely controlled rage as France took his hand and kissed it.

"Francis."

The Frenchman's eyes widened in admirably concealed terror at the purr in England's voice.

"Do me a favor… and  **DIE**!"

The entire class jumped in surprise and more than one shriek sounded as a huge mallet embedded itself right where Francis's feet had been. Only Hermione and Draco seemed to realize that their professor had just wandlessly transfigured a mallet/hammer dense enough to crack the floor from a pen on his desk.

"You could have broken my foot!" Francis cried accusingly.

"Funny, I was aiming for your face," Arthur growled, panting slightly from the exertion of swinging the hammer hard enough to visibly dent the floor. "Be an improvement I dare say."

"You are so cruel  _mon petit lapin_!"

"I'm not your anything! Now explain what you're  **really**  doing here!"

"What, I can't just drop by?" Francis chuckled nervously.

"Oh yes, you just thought you'd pop across the Channel for a friendly visit," Arthur mocked. "Don't pull that shit with me you sorry excuse for a human being. The only reasons you ever 'bother' me are to make fun of me or to get me to bail you out of something; say what you will, this is  **not**  a pleasure visit."

"Now now  _rosbif_ , surely you're blowing this out of propor-  _Merde_ , not the face!"

"Funny how the fastest you ever move is when you're threatened. Are you sure you're one of the Germanics, because you act like an Italian!"

"How dare you! France is the country of _l'amour_ ; we do  **not**  move like some brainless Italians- stop it with the face!"

"Well if you would just hold still long enough for me to smash it in, we wouldn't have this problem, now would we?"

"Think of the children  _rosbif_ , you do not want to taint their young minds!"

"In the first place," Arthur set the mallet on his desk, "they're teenagers. Secondly-" He turned to the class. "How many of you can see thestrals?" Of the ten students, eight raised their hands, the ones who didn't being Tracy Davis of Slytherin and Justin Finch-Fletchley from Hufflepuff. Arthur smiled and turned back to Francis, who was now beginning to fear he'd pushed the other too far. "See? Most of them have seen death, so one more won't hurt. Now, stay still unless you'd like for me to reintroduce your other body parts to Madame Guillotine,  _oui_?"

England's smirk was right down Russia-like as he hefted the mallet and twirled it as the end changed from blunt and massive to sharp, pointy, and just as massive. France's face paled dramatically as memories of gunpowder and blood in the streets came crashing to the forefront before he, quite wisely, took his leave.

"Get back here frog, I just want to see you bleeding all over the floor!"

The sixth-years all exchanged glances of horror and interest. "Shouldn't we get one of the teachers?" Su Li inquired timidly as somewhat girlish-sounding shrieks echoed down the hall.

"I think someone will have heard that soon enough," Roger Davies snorted.

"Think about it though," Malfoy spoke up quietly. "Kirkland wasn't given Binns' old classroom but one that was far off the beaten path. I think at least Dumbledore knew about his anger issues."

The Slytherin's words sunk in and this was well as the display that just occurred made them realize that their professor wasn't quite as stuffy as he let on, and, quite possibly,  **more**  insane.

* * *

"Come now, let's talk this over!" France cried as he deftly dodged England's makeshift scythe. "You are blowing this  **far**  out of proportion  _mon cher_!"

"Oh am I?" Arthur snarled as he swung his weapon back. "Nothing I do  **ever**  seems to be respected, and no matter what happens you always seem to take some sort of perverse pleasure in tormenting me!"

"If this is about the Suez Canal affair, I assure that was  **not**  my idea and I took no comfort whatsoever from the idea of being wedded to you!"

"Likewise!"

"Could you guys... please have your hatesex... somewhere else?" a lazy voice complained.

France and England turned to see Greece standing before them, a black cat with white markings around its eyes in his arms.

"He started it!" the blonds accused simultaneously as they pointed accusing fingers at each other. As Arthur was holding a giant scythe, this presented a rather comical sight.

"And I would  **never**  fornicate with that… thing if I was in my right mind!"

" _Rosbif_ , you are obviously forgetting about the time-"

"Like I said,  **if**  I was in my right mind," the Englishman glared. "Which I most certainly was not during the Plague."

"You two are really... disrupting the peace; Solembum, give me... a hand," Greece said to the cat he was holding, who 'mrow'ed in agreement.

From out of nowhere, several scores of cats swarmed into the corridor, overrunning Arthur and Francis.

"What the  **hell**??"

"What on earth Greece, get your army out of here; I am innocent, innocent I tell you!"

The tan nation was mute to his colleagues' cries. Arthur needed a lesson in anger management, and Francis... well, okay, maybe he did want a bit of revenge for when the Frenchman had been spying on him and Kiku. If Greece wanted video taken of their sex lives he'd take it himself.

"Professor Kirkland, one of your students just came to me with a, frankly, disturbing tale-" Minerve stopped dead in her tracks as she took in the sight of Kirkland and another blond man - or maybe it was a woman - surrounded by cats that looked as though they were holding them prisoner. Karpusi stood just a short distance away, and upon her arrival looked up, smiled, and said:

"They were arguing so... I stopped them. They should be... much more amenable now."

"Not the face!" the blond - man, Minerva decided - whimpered as one of the cats raised a paw to lay on his cheek.

"As I was saying, Ms. Li came to me with a rather disturbing tale, would you mind explaining just  **what**  happened?"

"Minerva, did you find what-" Snape stopped, an expression of surprise crossing his face before he schooled it blank. "What happened?"

"That is what I am trying to find out." Minerva glared at Severus for interrupting her interrogation.

"It's all his fault," England seethed as he kicked a foot towards France.

" _Moi_? I bet to differ; this would not have happened if you could just take a joke-"

"Marrying you is not a joke! Or if it is, it's the most terrible one I've ever heard!"

"I wasn't speaking about that, but while we're on the subject, it wasn't  **my**  idea! It was my boss who proposed it!"

"And I told him and you to bugger off!"

"I could have died you know!"

"You would have done the world as it is a favor!"

""You are so  **cruel**  to me  _rosbif_!"

"On the contrary, I think I'm far too kind!"

" **ENOUGH** **!** " The blonds cowered under the head Lioness's roar. "Professor Kirkland. Guest." She directed her glare at each of them in turn. "I would ask what you're arguing about, but I believe it would be a waste of time. What I do know is that you-" she glared at Francis, "-interrupted Professor Kirkland's class and he-" she glared at Arthur, "-then proceeded to try to... 'maim with the possible intent to kill'," she quoted what the shy Asian Ravenclaw had told her. "First things first is how exactly did you get in here?" She directed this question to Francis.

"Through the front door" he replied. " _Monsieur_  Dumbledore was kind enough to give me directions to  _mon cher'_ s classroom-"

"I'm not your dear!" Arthur growled.

"-and so I decided to drop by a simple hello," Francis explained.

"You were under my desk and grabbed me with no warning whatsoever!"

"Details,  _rosbif_ ; details."

"I'll show you details once I'm free you fucking-"

"Anyway," Minerva sighed. "All petty differences aside, there will be serious consequences for the both of you; consequences that I'm afraid won't be decided by me." It seemed she was the only one unhappy about that if France's relieved sigh was anything to go on. "If Professor Karpusi releases you, will you promise not to attempt to hurt each other?" McGonagall's glare was directed mainly at Arthur, who scowled right back.

"If Arthur promises I will be on my best behavior!" Francis promised with a wink. When Minerva didn't immeiately develop into a giggling schooolgirl he shrugged and turned to Heracles. "Will you let me go now?"

"Promise no more videoing of... me and Kiku," the Grecian demanded. "If I want video of... our sex lives taken I'll either... ask you or do it myself."

"All right, fine, I promise," Francis sighed. "Now could you get these cats off of me? I'm worried they'll mess up my hair!"

"'I'm worried they'll mess up my hair!'" Arthur mocked. "Honestly, you sound like a woman!"

"This coming from the one who  **embroiders** ," Francis scoffed.

"It's a relaxing past time, one far more dignified than your voyeuristic habits!" Arthur defended.

"Love is something which should not be hidden!" France protested.

"Are you going to fight the entire time if you're let go?" Snape inquired quietly. He'd not spoken until now as he hadn't been sure he could control his voice.

"Not if he isn't," the blonds chorused before glaring at each other.

"My army can take... them there," Heracles offered all too happily.

"All right, I proise not to kill or maim the frog," England muttered. "My word as a gentleman."

"Some gentleman," France mumbled. "I too promise not to touch  _Monsieur Sourcils_  over there."

"You do realize once I'm done here I'll probably hunt you down and put through Will's oldest torture book?" England grinned sharply.

"The one with the Kama Sutra illustrations in the margins?" Francis perked up.

"What?"

"Never mind," Francis chuckled nervously at the Englishman's glare. "Just forget I said anything."

"I think we will... have to take the... long route," Heracles thought aloud to hiself.

"You know, you look a bit like an evil overlord with that cat you're holding," Francis remarked.

"Really?" Greece cleared his throat slightly. "Mwa ha ha." He cocked his head a moment. "Nope, it doesn't really seem... 'me'."

Arthur groaned and would have facepalmed if he'd had the faculties to do so, while Minerva loked like she was about to severly discipline someone (she didn't do killing, thank you very much) and Severus was trying not to smile. This was  **far**  more interesting than grading papers on the theory of silent spellcasting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French key:
> 
>  _rosbif_ : Roast beef, it's a French slur usually used to insult the British x3
> 
>  _mon petit lapin_ : my little rabbit
> 
>  _merde_ : slang, means shit, damn, etc. Basically, France is cussing Iggy out for trying to mar his beautiful features ;3
> 
>  _l'amour_ : love
> 
>  _mon cher_ : my dear
> 
>  _oui_ : yes
> 
>  _moi_ : me, mine, etc.
> 
>  _monsieur_ : Mister
> 
>  _sourcils_ : eyebrows
> 
> The info about Samhain, as well as all other future Celtic religious stuff all comes from my BPF (Best Pervy Friend), Isonade's Jinchuuriki on FF.net, so make sure to thank him if you have the time. Solembum was also his idea (it's not actually Solembum from Eragon tho xD)
> 
> Well, SG-chan hopes you all enjoyed this chapter! Seriously, when I was writing this out it ended up being four pages, back-to-back, long and about three of those pages were France and England fighting XDXDXDXD


	10. Hallowe'en Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains Punk!Iggy. You have been warned, and SG-chan will not be responsible for any ovaries that explode. 
> 
> Also, key! 
> 
> Gaelic: "^insert text^"

"He attacked him with a  **what**?" Blaise cackled. "Oh man, I wish I'd been there! Sounds like Kirkland's a real riot once you get past the stuffiness."

"Speaking of, why aren't you in the class?" Draco wondered as he slicked his hair back once again. "You keep going on about how your mother keeps an iron grip on you in regards to your studies, so why aren't you in the NEWT history class?"

"You'd think so, wouldn't you" Blaise wondered. "She doesn't like the History curriculum though, and both her and _Signore_ Vargas agree that it's too outdated and doesn't cover enough, so I have a home tutor for that."

"Ugh, I wish you were in our class," Draco grumbled as he pointed his wand towards his teeth. A short spell later and his incisors were much sharper. "There's only one Gryffindor - Granger of course, but the other half of the class is Ravenclaws, with a couple of Hufflepuffs. It's so dreadfully  **boring**  - apart from Kirkland's occasional lapses of sanity." The blond turned away from the mirror. "How do I look?" he asked, flinging his cape back as he flashed his fangs.

Blaise gave him a thumbs up.

* * *

"He dented the floor?" Harry's eyes bugged out behind his glasses. Behind him Ron's expression mirrored his own.

"He's got some muscle on those scrawny limbs after all," the redhead shook his head. "Mione, could you help me wrap these bandages?"

"Honestly Ron," Hermione huffed as she took the bandages for his mummy costume and began winding one around his bicep. "Have you been working out?" she wondered as she squeezed his arm slightly.

"Hmm? Oh yeah, I owled Oliver for tips on being Keeper so he sent me a bunch of stuff," Ron explained.

"If only you took your studies as seriously," the brunette sighed as she tied the bandage off near his wrist.

"Here, I'll take over," Harry offered, seeing how close his friends were getting. While he was all for ending their UST, he wanted them to wait until  **after** hols so he could win his and Ginny's bet - he didn't want to have to become her personal servant or have to perform some other kind of evil task.

"What are you Harry?" Ron asked. "A ghost?"

"Not just  **any**  ghost," Harry shook his head from under the sheet he wore. "I got a rock," he quoted.

"It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!" the girl exclaimed. "That's very original of you Harry. Well, the idea, not so much the costume."

"It was actually Luna's idea," Harry admitted. "She's going to be Lucy, a ghoul or a witch, whichever she was."

"Are you two going together?" Ron asked, slightly incredulous.

"What? No, she just came up with the costume idea," Harry protested.

"Whatever you say," Hermione chuckled. She tossed her hair back. "I like being Medusa myself."

* * *

"Tch, bunch of pansies," England grumbled to himself as he cleaned his left ear with a finger. "I didn't even break any bones."

"Though you tried your best," France muttered, glaring at England across from Greece, who stood between the two. "I do believe I have a couple of grey hairs now."

"You've never greyed through everything you've been through, why would you start now?" the Englishman scoffed.

"Madame Guillotine was never forgiving in the past, why would she be now?" Francis mumbled. "Such beauty, lost forever."

"You two are... so gloomy," Heracles groaned. "I'm going to... go see if I can get... ahold of Kiku; maybe I can convince him... to have Floosex." The Grecian hastily retreated from the two's presence.

"My God," Arthur breathed. "I believe..."

"...he is the more perverted of us," Francis nodded in agreement. "I mean, Floo?" He shuddered slightly. "That is burns in uncomfortable places just waiting to happen. Though I too should be taking my leave."

"So soon?" Arthur perked up.

"I know you are heartbroken by my departure, but stay strong  _mon cher_!"Francis gripped Arthur by the shoulders. "Every day that passes by without the sight of your emerald eyes drives me only further into melancholy!"

"N-now see here Francis," England stuttered, a fine blush dusting his cheeks. Mortal enemy or no, having compliments like that heaped on him was not something easily brushed off.

"I shall wait for you, my bed empty and my window open with the moonlight to be our only companion." Francis's voice was nothing more than a whisper now as he pulled the other slowly, but surely, closer to him. "And we shall spend the night making passionate love upon a fine bed of roses-"

"Don't you dare insult my national flower in such a way!"

England's fist connected with France's face, followed by a powerful kick to the abdomen that sent the Frenchman flying.

"I think this would be my cue to leave," Francis gasped, and a blue glow burst shortly from him as he gathered his magic as quickly as he could to nation-step out of sight, no doubt back in his main home in his own country.

"Next meeting," England growled, an eerie green aura emanating around him. "I'm going to fucking  **flay**  that foul-faced frog!" And with that alliteration that would have made Shakespeare proud, England stomped off to his quarters, now more intent than ever to just let himself go tonight.

* * *

The Hogwarts Halloween Ball was now in full swing and though many people had decided not to wear a costume, those who did ranged from the simple (ghosts like Harry (though none were actually Charlie Brown related)) to the elaborate (a Hufflepuff third-year who was dressed as Darth Vader with several of his housemates as 'Stormtroopers').

Arthur chuckled as he watched 'Darth Vader' sweep by with his entourage in tow. "That idiot would probably approve of that."

"Who would approve of what li'l Arty?"

The familiar brogue made Arthur whirl around in surprise. "Will!" he exclaimed at seeing his eldest brother.

"Hey there ^brother^," the redhead chuckled, engulfing Arthur in a bear hug. "Like yer outfit, but don't ye think ye're showing a bit too much skin round the young'uns?"

"Oh come off it; you've worn far worse, and while with the frog no less," Arthur scoffed, crossing his arms.

"Ah, but Frenchie makes it  **enjoyable** ," Will leered.

"Speaking of, what's this I'm hearing about Kama Sutra illustrations in the margins of some of our torture books?"

"Oh,  **that**  one." Will giggled pervertedly as a little drool dripped from his mouth. "Me and Frenchie had a  **lot**  of fun with that one..."

"Ugh, how you can willingly spend time with him without strangling him and even more, finding his company  **enjoyable**... it boggles the mind." Arthur shook his head.

"Oh? Like you an' Alfie haven't had your fair share of lover's spats," Will teased, elbowing the younger.

"I-I-I'm not interested in him like that!" Arthur spluttered, his face bright red.

"Careful now Arty, or people'll think ye  **tolerate**  'im."

"Why you fucking-! I'll throttle-"

"Ahem!"

The brothers turned to see the forbidding figure of Minerva McGonagall. Admittedly, the fact she was dressed like a five-year-old ballerina took away from some of the ferocity she was projecting, but not much. "And just what are you trying to do to Mr. Wallace, Kirkland?"

Arthur wasn't sure whether the disdain in her voice was more from what she'd caught him attempting to do, or from the fact he had five piercings in his ears alone, which, when combined with his skin-tight leather pants and Sex Pistols sleeveless shirt, made him the poster boy image for 'rebel'. The shock of green in his hair probably didn't help either.

"Oh, so you're 'Mr. Wallace' now?"Arthur narrowed his eyes at Will's smirk. "And just so you know, I was straightening his tie." The blond moved his hands so they were at the base of his throat.

"I'm not wearin' a tie ^little brother^," Scotland chuckled nastily.

"I could make you one with a lovely noose design," Arthur offered cheerily. "Go well with the blood red necklace I gave you." He stroked a finger along the middle of the length of Scotland's throat, where his axe had met so long ago...

"Nah, Frenchie gave me a brooch that's much prettier, right here." His smirk was still strong as he circled a spot just below his left clavicle.

England frowned and shoved his hands into his back pockets. "Pervert," he accused.

"Like you're any less of one," Will cackled, slinging an arm around Arthur's neck.

McGonagall frowned even harder. "Mr. Wallace?" she asked. "How do you know Professor Kirkland?"

"He's my l'il brother," Scotland cooed, pulling him closer and into a headlock.

"Get off of me!" England protested, pushing at Scotland's arm. "And only half!"

"Aww, you're so mean! At least I don't hate you like our dear sister, hmm?"

"She hates you too you know," England grumbled as he wedged an arm between his neck and Will's arm.

"Minerva, why are you standing around?" Flitwick wasn't dressed in a costume, but seemed to be getting into the swing of the party nonetheless. "Stop picking on Arthur!"

"Oh no, she's free te pick on him as much as she likes," Will interjected. "Otherwise he starts to get a head the size of the British Empire, and we all know how that one ends."

"With you in traction if you don't shut up!" Arthur retorted.

Minerva sighed heavily as she resigned herself to even more of the madness the History professor seemed to bring with him. "Filius, this is William Wallace; his family has been financial supporters of the school for generations now."

"Back in the beginning if I recall correctly," Scotland mused as he stroked an imaginary beard. "Li'l Arty here's part o' that too."

"Not of my own free will, I assure you," the blond muttered. "If I could choose my own family-"

"C'mon, lighten up!" Scotland slapped him on the back while cackling. "It's Samhain ye little pagan, ye should be celebratin'!"

"Oh shut it!" England snapped. "Why the hell d'you think I'm wearing this outfit in the first place?"

"A subconscious hope that Alfie'll show up and, overcome by your immense sexiness, end up jumpin' ya?" Scotland's laughter rang out as he dodged his brother's attempts to strangle him again.

"Uncle Will!" Peter had showed up and now had jumped on Scotland's back, his arms and legs wrapped around his torso. "I thought you were too lazy to come!"

"Get offa me ye little octopus, and I'll tell ya." Peter detached himself and landed on the floor before looking up at his, technically, older brother figure. "C'mon, ye didn't think I could let this time a year go by without bothering our stuffy brother, now could I?" Scotland fixed a stern look on the micronation. "I hope ye've been making life hell for him."

"Mr. Wallace!"

Minerva's indignant cry was accompanied by Arthur's reassurance of: "Oh, he's been making it hell for me all right. Not now Minty!"

"Are ye talking to yer imaginary friends again?" Scotland scoffed.

"Just because you're too thick to see faeries doesn't mean they don't exist!" England bristled in defense of his small friends.

"Sure," Will drawled with a wink to Peter. "An' just who are ye supposed to be, hmm?"

"I'm a ghost pirate!" Peter exclaimed with a grin. "I owled Papa for ideas on a costume and he sent me this!" The boy struck a pose with his (hopefully fake) cutlass as Will snickered and Arthur sighed wearily.

"Please tell me the torture will be over soon," the Englishman muttered.

"Just as soon as ye catch me up with Nick!" A large hand clapped over Arthur's shoulder. "I haven't talked with him in a while, plus I brought some of those mystery books he likes." Arthur gave another groan as he was dragged away to be tortured by the ghost of the Scotsman's best friend.

"Stay with the party Minerva," Filius chided with a hand laid on the woman's arm. "You don't need to be watching him every second; though I'll admit, that would be amusing to watch." He smiled at her glare. "Just enjoy yourself," the small man reminded before dragging her off onto the dance floor.

Peter shrugged as he found himself alone. "The Great Sea-kun will now go indulge himself in the buffet table!" he announced to himself before going off to do just that.

He stopped when he ran into someone. "Sorry," Peter apologized as he manuveured around the person clad in a sheet with eye holes.

"No problem," the person under the sheet reassured him. "It's kind of my fault anyway; I probably should have made my eye holes bigger."

"It's all right Harry; we didn't have very good scissors anyway," the girl next to the ghost assured, her tone soothing though her face couldn't be seen as she was wearing a ghoul mask.

"So are you two together?" Peter asked curiously, as any dirt on Harry Potter of all people was sure to be interesting.

"Me and Luna?" The surprise in the boy's voice was obvious. "No, we're just friends. She came up with our costume ideas."

"Well well, if it isn't Scarhead," a familiar voice drawled. "Too afraid to show your face Potter?"

"Bugger off Malfoy," Harry snarled. "It's a party; can't you be civil for just one night out of the year?"

"Hey, you're Kirkland's little brother, right?" Blaise had abandoned his friend in favor of questioning Peter. "What's he like under all that stuffiness? I hear he's quite an interesting character if the stories about him going after that - was he French Dray?" Blaise asked, effectively interrupting Harry and Draco's (not so) witty banter.

"He was French Blaise, now shut up, I'm trying to quarrel with Potter," the blond scowled.

"Oh, so  **that's**  why I thought I heard Francis screaming earlier," Peter mused. "I was wondering about that."

"You  **would**  be hanging out with Potter, wouldn't you?" Draco sniffed disdainfully in Luna's direction.

The girl tilted her head slightly. "Of course I would; I support all those who prove to be my friends," she informed him in a lightly stern tone.

"Come on Blaise," the Malfoy heir ordered after a tense moment.

"Aww, Drakey-poo, I wanted to converse with the teacher's spawn first!" Blaise pouted.

"Hey, I'm totally much better than That Jerk!" Peter protested as he scowled fiercely at Blaise. "And no one calls me a spawn but Uncle Matthias, and then only if Uncle Lukas doesn't catch him and ground him to the couch!"

"Er, okaaay," Blaise conceded after a moment. "Whatever you say kid."

" **Blaise**."

" _Dio_ , don't get your panties in a twist Dray!"

"I don't wear such things!"

"It's an  **expression**.  _Dio mio_..." The two Slytherins faded into the crowd.

"Well, I have to go plan another attack on That Jerk. Bye Harry, bye Harry's not-girlfriend!" Peter waved before skipping away.

"Geez, first years," Harry shook his head. "Right Luna?"

"Hmm, y-yes," the girl stuttered slightly, glad she was wearing a mask since then Harry couldn't see her blush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Dio_ : Italian for 'God'
> 
>  _Dio mio_ : 'My God' (Italian again)
> 
> Okay, if anyone's wondering "When the hell did Scotland get there?", believe me, you're not the only one. What happened was literally this:
> 
> SG-chan: *writing this chapter during math class when teacher's going over problems other kids had issues with* Hmm, I think I'll reread to see if I made any glaring mistakes. *rereads, suddenly stops* When the hell did Scotland get there?
> 
> So yeah, that's pretty much what happened ^^; Just a note, the image SG-chan has in her head of Scotland is the most seen fanon pics of him on Pixiv. He looks so hot... And if you don't get what the whole 'William Wallace' thing is, well then you need to go read your Scottish history. It's a good thing my grandmother (the British one) doesn't read my fics, cause despite being distantly descended from him, she still absolutely hates the Scottish -_-;; And the Irish too, which is funny cause my mom's Irish xD


	11. Later That Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, almost sexytimes between Iggy and Alfie, so if you don't like that, click the back space or hit the red 'x' up in the right corner of your browser. SG-chan shan't tolerate flames, especially cause this is her first published Hetalia (sort of) smut! *nods defiantly* Seriously though, I hope you guys like this chapter; SG-chan's kinda nervous ^^;
> 
> Oh, and no key this chappie.

"Bye! Happy Halloween!" Alfred waved to the little Spiderman he'd just given a handful of Butterfingers to. "Heh heh," the blond chuckled to himself. "I wonder if I'll get any lame ghosts this year; maybe Artie'll try to scare me!"

Despite his brave front, Alfred's attitude was just that – in their current competition of scaring one another at Halloween, he had only one victory – and that was  **with**  Japan helping him. But honestly, it wasn't as if it was his fault he scared easily  **and**  England knew all his weak spots – the man had raised him after all. He shook his head, determined not to think of such maudlin – and possibly dangerous – things.

America yawned. Man, his boss didn't give him any time off – he'd been up nearly all night working, plus after he'd actually finished his paperwork he had to finish the last level of the latest horror game Kiku sent him, so he'd only gotten a couple hours of sleep. It wasn't that he never did his work you see; he just commonly got distracted is all. Any time he tried to explain that to Arthur when the older man was scolding him would only result in memories that shouldn't be reminisced though, so he mainly kept quiet.

He yawned again. Maybe he could get Tony to hand candy out for him for a while, just so he could take a short nap so he'd be well-rested for later – Halloween was one of the most important American holidays after all!

"Hey Tony!" Alfred called as he set the candy bowl on the table.

The short alien stuck his head out of the kitchen – probably cannibalizing some of his appliances for parts – that was one of the reasons he was always so late, not that anyone really cared to listen to him – do you know how hard it is to find a carburetor on such short notice? "Buubu?"

"Could you hand out candy for a bit? I'm gonna take a little nap."

"Fucking," the alien agreed.

"Thanks Tony!" Alfred grinned. "You're the best!" He curled up on the couch and promptly proceeded to drool all over the cushions as he fell asleep.

After a moment, Tony came out and, seeing Alfred was asleep, uttered a single, "Fucking bitch," and dumped the candy into his own bag. The alien then went back to his room. Hey, if America was going to lay that much candy out, unguarded, he was just asking for it! Besides, he deserved it for all the times that fucking Limey came over, stinking the place up with his fae and mystical mumbo-jumboness. Fucking idiot…

* * *

"Fucking idiot," England muttered as he finally made his way back to his room. "I'm doing him a  **favor** , teaching kids real history, and what does he do? Tortures me with the fucking Hardy boys. Bunch of trash; Holmes is so much better, and not as easy to solve either!" This time he was, in fact, talking to himself, as he'd chased Flying Mint Bunny away (she'd been bothering him a lot tonight) and Brigid, Maeve and Keira were somewhere else, most likely off celebrating with their own kind that made the Forbidden Forest their home.

Arthur sighed, this time wearily. What he wouldn't give to celebrate the passing of the year in proper fashion.  _Ah well. The past is the past,_  Arthur thought to himself as he entered his room.  _And not that I don't like wearing this outfit_  (on the contrary, he liked leather quite a lot)  _but I'm not going to sleep in it._  He shimmied out of his pants (hard to do as they stuck quite a bit) and donned a pair of comfortable pajama bottoms with rabbits decorating them (he didn't get why Japan had been snickering so when the Englishman had received them).

He'd just shucked his top when he suddenly was quite aware of a distraction in a one meter radius of his-

England didn't have time to react when a giant mallet slammed on the top of his head and he toppled over onto his bed, unconscious. If he'd still been conscious, he probably would've been pretty pissed at the little sign that hung from the swinging mallet that read:

_Happy Samhain you little motherfucker._

_Love, Neve._

* * *

The thing about dreams is that they're mainly a manifestation of your subconscious. So when America opened his eyes shortly after conking out for his nap and was greeted by the sight of Arthur – without a shirt and with several piercings that he never should have found hot but he did, and damn was he sad when the '70s craze died down and the suits came back – he wasn't too surprised. That Arthur was looking pretty pissed for some reason was also (sadly) normal.

"'sup British dude, what's hanging?"  _Dammit, Al, you had to come up with something as lame as that?_  Apparently said 'British dude' also agreed with Alfred's sub-subconscious as Arthur scowled even harder.

"Get up you git," he reprimanded, holding out a hand for America to grasp because he was – for some reason – lying on the ground.

"Thanks Artie," Alfred grinned.

He ducked the expected head smack as Arthur scolded, "Don't shorten my name like that you imbecile."

"Yeah, whatever." Alfred waved a hand dismissively as Arthur seethed. "So what's that over there?" He pointed towards the dull red glow coming from a circle of bonfires off aways.

"Hmm?" Arthur's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Curious."

"What's  **that**  supposed to mean?" Alfred asked.

"Well, not that you'd probably know what any of this entails, but on Samhain - that's Halloween to you-" England ignored the eye roll he was given, "-one of the ways the passing of the old year is celebrated is by burning bonfires through the night."

"Uh, dude, New Year's is in January; January 1st." America spoke as if communicating with a slow child.

"The  **Celtic**  New Year is tonight," Arthur scowled. "For a country who welcomes such a myriad of religions, you certainly don't seem to know anything about them."

"Well, you know, Puritans, a-and then the '60s loosened me up, and well, you're old and..." By this time America was blushing and had a sullen look on his face. "It's not my fault!"

"I didn't say it was," England chuckled as he reached up to ruffle America's hair.

The latter flushed harder because this afforded him with quite a good view of England's chest, and dammit, he should not look so hot while still being so scrawny! "So do you guys just chuck stuff into the fire and chant or what?"

Alfred ducked out from Arthur's hand, missing the split second expression of hurt on his face before he answered, "No, nothing that stereotypical. Where on earth did you get that from, one of your trashy Hollywood films?"

_Even in my dreams, he's so insensitive,_  both men thought as they turned away from one another.

"What's that smell?" Alfred wondered as he tried to change the subject. "It's kinda familiar..."

"It's sage and mullein," Arthur explained quietly. "I used them to supplement other medicines when you were sick, remember?"

"Oh yeah," the taller blond mumbled.

There was an uncomfortable silence as the bittersweet history they shared was remembered in a place where no one could bother them and attention couldn't be drawn away from the subject.

"England..." Alfred started, his hand hovering above Arthur's shoulder.

The shorter flinched slightly and began to walk towards the fires. "The night is passing; tradition must be kept."

"What?" America stumbled slightly as Arthur walked away. "England, what are you talking about?"

Arthur turned and took Alfred's left hand in his, pink lightly dusting his cheeks. "I-it's customary," England stammered, not meeting America's eyes. "T-to dance around the fires as we welcome the New Year; for luck."

"O-oh." America's eyes widened before he clasped his other hand just around England's waist, his fingers splayed slightly across heated skin.

"I-idiot!" Arthur yanked the hand off his waist. "Not ballroom dancing; don't you remember any of your old traditions?"

"Y-ya mean powwows and stuff?" Alfred found himself blushing at the admonishment.

"Please don't mangle the Queen's English like that; didn't anything I teach you ever stick?"

"Some stuff," the blue-eyed blond muttered, catching both of Arthur's hands and holding them so that he could rub a thumb over the inside of his wrists.

"Wh-what are you doing?" the Englishman's voice was strangely hushed as the two men stared down at England's hands in America's, the former's wrists being caressed by the latter.

"Holding you," Alfred stated. He lifted his gaze to meet his former brother's, taking one of his hands up to brush a kiss across the back of his hand.

Arthur's breath hitched as he felt a spark where America's lips had touched his skin. Everything had a certain clarity to it that was only to be found in dreams, where it was like an ocean was roaring in his ears one minute, and the next he was up higher than the highest mountain while the wind whistled past in a tempest.

"Don't stop me."

The - warning? plea? command? - was uttered so low that Arthur almost missed it as Alfred let go of one hand in favor of tracing over the topmost piercing in his right ear.

"I loved how you dressed back in the '60s and '70s. You had these piercings-" a tap to the cartilage of his lobe, "-and I wanted nothing more than to just run my tongue over them." America leaned in and did precisely that, sending a shiver down Arthur's spin that, with his lack of a shirt, couldn't be mistaken for anything else. "You had a tongue piercing back then," Alfred breathed in Arthur's ear. "During meetings I'd get so distracted, just imagining how it would feel, having you suck my cock with it in."

Arthur bit down a whimper at the mental image (would the American be heavy and a bit too big, or just enough to fit if he suppressed his gag reflex?) and instead whispered back, "What exactly makes you think I'd let you? Who's to say I wouldn't just push you down and have my way with you?" He punctuated this with a sharp nip to Alfred's ear.

"Fuck," the American inhaled sharply. "I would have absolutely no objections to that Captain."

The title made the blood pound in England's ears, and his hands fisted in Alfred's hair as he mashed their mouths together. He immediately thrust his tongue past Alfred's lips, not bothering to wait for any return of affections as he just proceeded to take.

Alfred moaned and didn't really try to do anything, just letting Arthur do what he wanted. His hands left their places at England's ear and hand to travel along his sides. England moaned, his skin turning hypersensitive as hands callused from years of work as everything from a mercenary to a farm hand stroked his exposed skin. In a form of retaliation Arthur's hands tightened in America's hair, tugging not quite painfully, but enough to be noticed. As his hands roamed, he grasped one particular unruly strand, and America  **jumped**  as a loud moan escaped him.

"What on earth was that?" England asked as he drew back, admiring in the back of his mind how beautifully  **ravished** his former brother looked.

"S-sorry," Alfred panted, his fists balled at England's sides. "N-Nantucket's... k-kinda sensitive."

"Oh is it now?" Arthur smirked and Alfred's eyes widened as he realized what he'd just said.

"H-Hey, don't go ab- hnnngh!" Alfred whined shrilly as Arthur took hold of Nantucket and tugged at it.

"Now now poppet, you're in good hands," Arthur crooned, his green eyes lustful as he watched his former charge, the young man he'd raised, the world's remaining superpower, come apart so... deliciously.

"Hnngh... guh, Eng-  **Arthur**!" America gasped, his hands on autopilot as they scrabbled at England's back.

"That's it luv, let yourself go," the elder soothed, though his voice was tremulous as Alfred's hands ran over his naked skin, sinking into his back and triggering flashes of painful pleasure that only made him want to torment the younger man even more, to make him drop that idiotic exterior and be exposed, just for England, always,  **only**  for England.

"Love you," Alfred moaned, his sky blue eyes turned dark with desire. "Love you, love you, always loved you, always always..."

"Me too America, me too," Arthur replied emphatically, pulling Alfred into a messy kiss as he continued to stroke Nantucket. "Let go luv, give yourself over," he cajoled. "I've got you Alfred, I've got you."

Alfred let out a sob as England stroked Nantucket once more-

* * *

America woke, heaving and gasping as sweat rolled down his face. He felt like he was burning all over, and you didn't have to be a genius at reading the atmosphere to figure out why. He adjusted a cushion over his vital regions as he realized Tony was playing a video game on the TV.

The alien turned to him as he heard him shuffling about. Tony cocked his head and questioned: "Fucking Limey?"

Alfred groaned. "I wish Tony," he muttered. "I fucking wish."

* * *

"...gland. England!"

Said nation opened his eyes slowly, and he was more than a little disappointed to find that, no, his dream had not been reality, and the one yelling him awake was small and green and-

"Minty?"

"You're awake!" the small flying creature trilled happily. "I was worried - Miss Ireland was in here earlier but you wouldn't listen and-"

"Yes, yes, and I'm sorry for that," England apologized. "I was rather busy with Will you see."

"I know." Flying Mint Bunny looked at him sideways. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine Minty," Arthur reassured her with a wane smile. "I'm fine."

"So, how long do you suppose it'll take for them to take the hint?"

* * *

Up in heaven, or here in limbo, or wherever Ancient Nations went when they 'died', Mother Britannia and Native America were growing (quite reasonably) frustrated with their children. Hence why they'd drawn England and America into a shared dreamscape.

"Well, if the next time they meet there's something or someone there to exacerbate their sexual tension..." Mother Britannia muttered to herself.

"Are you frustrated my dear?"

She quickly shoved a fist in Gaul's face. "Shush, Native America and I are plotting."

"Ooh, plotting?" Gaul recovered from the blow she'd received, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Do let me assist you dear, I could be so much help!"

Mother Britannia and Native America exchanged glances before they turned back to Gaul. "Fine. Here's what we've done so far..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, did everyone like it? ;3 Mother Britannia is inspired by ArkhamInsanity on DA, who draws the best Hetalia spanking pics ever, and some other really good art too if that sort of thing ain't your cup of tea.
> 
> And yes, SG-chan did just write a chapter that is dedicated pretty much entirely to a dream sequence, and no, it was not just an excuse to practice smut (well, kinda, but not entirely). There is a method to SG-chan's madness some of the time - this is one of those times.
> 
> Maybe. 
> 
> Probably.


	12. Beginning of Collapse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yays, we finally get to the Torchwood portion of the story! *confetti* Also Luna's a boss. Just saying. 
> 
> Return of the key! 
> 
> Greek: "\insert text\"

If the moods of nations somehow influenced their weather, then it was quite probable that there was a typhoon in Greece right now. The nation himself was in a dour mood and met each person bidding him "Good morning!" with the same blank scowl he usually gave Turkey when he was trying to be friendly with Japan. In fact, his sour mood this morning was, as many things in his life, Japan-influenced, as England found out when he came down to breakfast - a somewhat rare occurrence as he normally had his faery friends bring him food - food from the kitchen, mind you, not food from the actual realm of the fae.

"Happy New Year," Arthur greeted the other staff members, several who were having more than a little difficulty matching the somewhat cheery young man of this morning with the rumored to be insane History teacher and leather-clad rebel of the previous night.

"\Why are you… so happy?\" Heracles grumbled, too upset to bother speaking in English.

"\Why are you so grumpy?\" Arthur replied. "\Did Kiku not put out or something?\" From the way Greece's glare increased to near-scorching levels, he seemed to have hit the nail on the head.

"\I miss him,\" Greece moaned as he laid his head on the table. "\I wanna cuddle… with him and my cats… and just sleep… the day away…\" Heracles looked so forlorn that Arthur couldn't help himself as he ruffled the Grecian's hair.

"\Chin up old chap; come Christmas and Yuletide we have time off, and you can visit Kiku then.\"

"\Why the hell…  **are**  you so cheery?\" Greece turned so he was looking at England. "\You couldn't… have gotten laid… since Francis is gone and… Alfred isn't here…\"

England seethed, desperately fighting down the urge to blush. Damn his pale complexion that never tanned like someone else's (notAlfrednotAlfred **not** ) did! "\Could you not talk about the frog in my presence? It's bad enough he and Will are all…  **close**  without you adding insult to injury!\"

"\Why  **would**  you… be so happy though?\" Heracles wondered. His eyes widened in surprise suddenly. "\Oh Zeus. What… did you summon?\"

"\Wh- oh, that is  **just**  like you! Sure, I accidentally summon a demon at a meeting while piss drunk, and suddenly you all think it's my favorite past time! Well, I have news for you!\" England hissed, jabbing a finger at Heracles. "\The only fucking thing I'm to blame for is the defeat of the Spanish Armada!\"

And with that cryptic snarl, England left the hall, suddenly not at all hungry.

"Good morning Minerva," Albus greeted his deputy as he sat down. He took in the confused expressions around the table and the murmur of gossip among the students. "What did I miss?"

* * *

Arthur dashed the chalk against the board angrily. He'd been in a slightly better - if somewhat embarrassed mood - this morning, and then Greece had to go and ruin it just because Kiku wouldn't have sex through a fireplace. Well, good on Kiku, give the cat bastard what for! And oh Donn forgive him, now he was sounding like South Italy - what was his name again? Something cheese-related…

"Excuse me, Professor Kirkland?"

England turned, his expression slightly softening as it was Miss Lovegood asking the question. It wasn't just the fact that she was able to see Minty. That alone put Arthur in a happier mood. "Yes, Miss Lovegood?"

"May I go use the lavatory?"

He almost face palmed. And here he was hoping for an intelligent question to distract him… "Yes you may, but hurry up." Arthur finished writing on the board in a slightly less violent manner than before as the rest of the 5th year Ravenclaws filed in.

It was only a moment later that he heard a short cry, followed by an exclamation of, "That crazy bitch!"

He turned to see one of the girls - Turpin, he recalled - wringing her reddened hands.

"Miss Turpin?" Arthur came over. "Are you all right?"

"No!" The girl cried. "Looney, she did something to her books and they stung my hands!" Lisa rubbed them harder.

"Hold them out." The girl did so. As Arthur studied the rash that was quickly spreading he asked," So what were you doing with Miss Lovegood's books?"

"W-well, I-I was going to ask her what the homework in Arithmancy was, but I saw she wasn't h-here so I went to go look and see if she had it!" Arthur raised an eyebrow and 'hmm'ed, deciding not to comment on the fact that he knew for a fact that the students in 5th year that took Arithmancy were working on a year-long project right now so there  **was**  no homework.

"It isn't too serious," he decided. "Just a mild case of quickly spreading poison oak." Upon the girl's outraged look, he explained: "It's a plant that gives you a very itchy rash. Just try not to itch it and go down to Madame Pomfrey's. I'll write you a pass."

Lisa nodded, her hands shaking slightly as she took the note. "Oh, and Miss Turpin?" She turned at his quiet call. "10 points from Ravenclaw for attempting to vandalize your classmate's books." Lisa blushed heavily at getting caught before she rushed out of the classroom.

"Just a mild case of poison oak," Arthur assured the rest of the students. "Nothing dangerous. Now, if you'd all open your books to-" He broke off in a coughing fit. "Sorry. To where we left off in taking notes on-" He stopped again as he began to cough heavily.

"Are you all right Professor?" Zachary Metlon inquired.

"Yes, right as-" By now it sounded as though the blond were hacking up a lung. It grew worse and Arthur collapsed to his knees.

"Professor!" Kelly Amel came up to him and gasped. "He's coughing up blood! Somebody go get Madame Pomfrey!" she ordered.

Zachary took off running just as Luna came back in. "What's going on?" she asked.

"Kirkland's coughing up blood!" one of her male classmates exclaimed excitedly.

"Professor, don't move around too much," Kelly told the blond.

"Obviously," Arthur gasped between hacks.

"Do you need any help?" Luna asked.

"Well, Madame Pomfrey should be here soon," Kelly said. "And I've had some first-aid basic training so I don't think he'll die before she gets here."

"All right, what exactly is going on in here?" The woman in question swept into the room and her eyes widened. "Merlin, what on earth happened?"

"No one knows, he just started coughing," Kelly started as Pomfrey shooed her away.

"Come now Kirkland, don't try to move," Poppy scolded.

Arthur shook his head. "No.. need to tell Albus… Whitehaven…" He broke off coughing.

"All of you, shoo!" Poppy scolded as she supported the man, who was surprisingly light for his size. "We'll talk to Albus  **after**  we get you taken care of. Now be quiet!"

* * *

"Jack." The name was spoken with a slight waver.

"Ianto." The reply was playful, as if the speaker were engaged in a rather fun game.

"We're  **not**  playing naked hide-and-seek again – not after the last time – aah! No biting!" Ianto Jones – a slight relation to one Alfred F. – snapped as he slapped at Captain Jack Harkness, the leader of Torchwood.

"Not my fault the Rift decided to choose that exact minute to spit out some poor soul," Jack chuckled as he went back to biting at Ianto's neck like some terrible parody of a vampire. "As for the biting – everyone knows we're together, why hide it? If Owen's giving you trouble again just deck him."

"Ha ha, very funny," Ianto growled as he high-fived Jack's face – cause leaders don't get bitchslapped, no sirree, they don't. "Not all of us are immortal or immune to Owen trying to get revenge on us." Well, not that Ianto wasn't sort of immortal, he just hadn't quite gotten around to telling Jack yet. Or the rest of his team. Or really any humans he'd ever known. Rhi didn't count because, well, she didn't. He would, eventually, it would just take some (a lot) of courage (and possibly copious amounts of alcohol) on his part.

"Paperwork," Ianto finally decided – and this seemed to at least slow Jack down a little, as the time-traveling captain stopped molesting Ianto's neck – he didn't want to come into work looking like one of London's whores thank you very much – and growled slightly.

"Hate paperwork," Jack sighed. "Why don't you leave it to Gwen or Tosh – or Owen even, he needs something to do in his undead time."

"They can't pry details out of you with sex," Ianto replied as he concentrated – again – on filling out the forms in front of him. "And if they try I will be extremely annoyed."

"You'll spill hot tea down their fronts, huh?" Jack chuckled, leaning over to molest poor Ianto's ear now.

"Jack, I'll banish you to the work couch for two weeks."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me," the Welshman challenged, not once looking up from his papers. The beginning of Jack's stareoff with the back of Ianto's head was ended by a cell phone buzzing. "What the hell is it now," Ianto grumbled to himself, hoping it wasn't one of his siblings drunk-texting him again. His eyes widened slightly as he read who the text was from. "Wonder why  **he's**  texting me."

"Who?" Jack leaned over to properly read the text only to be foiled as Ianto snapped his phone shut.

"A colleague of mine back from my days in Torchwood One. He needs a bit of… help up in Scotland."

"Scotland?" Jack frowned at his lover's dodgy behavior. "What, he need help with the Loch Ness Monster or something?"

"He's not a former lover if that's what you're thinking," Ianto said, hoping to forestall any jealousy. "He just needs a bit of help, and I'm the only one available."

"Oh? Does he have a name?" Jack was only asking because he was curious – if Ianto didn't tell him then he could always steal his phone later and have Tosh hack it.

"Arthur's my half-brother Jack," Ianto sighed.

"Oh? How come you've never told us about him?" Jack asked curiously.

"You've told us how much about your past and/or family?" Ianto deadpanned.

"Point taken," Jack muttered.

"We're not very close," Ianto admitted after a moment. "None of us are really."

"Oh, so you have more siblings stashed away somewhere?" Jack gasped in mock affront.

"Scotland, Ireland and England to be exact," Ianto replied, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"How long will you be gone?" Jack sighed, pouting slightly.

"I'm not sure; probably a week at the most."

"What?" Jack blurted. "Outrageous. You're staying here where you belong."

"Jack," Ianto protested as he tried to rise and felt Jack pushing down on him. "Jack, let me up."

"No; I'm grounding you."

" **Grounding**  me? Jack, I'm not doing anything dangerous!"  _Well, not too much more dangerous than is normal._

"Going to Scotland counts as dangerous."

"Jack!"

"Ianto."

" **Jack**." The Welshman's patience was running thin, and it was apparent from the growl in his voice.

"Ianto?" The time-traveler was beginning to feel slightly like he'd just annoyed a whole battalion of Daleks. "How am I going to function without you?" he whined in an attempt to change the subject – slightly.

"Well maybe now you'll get a taste of how we felt whenever you went off with that Doctor friend of yours," Ianto grumbled.

"I left a note!" Jack protested. He quailed slightly as Ianto whipped around and fixed him with a glare.

"I'm going to Scotland to help Arthur, Jack. Besides, this'll be good for you; give you time to catch up on all the paperwork you're supposed to have been doing."

Jack pouted, his mind already whirring with ideas as to how to track Ianto to wherever he'd be going to in Scotland.

* * *

"There's no reason for your lungs to suddenly give out," Poppy grumbled to herself. "No existing conditions, no stimulus for it at all!" She scowled at her unconscious patient who was giving her so much trouble. "Not to mention you're on the brink of malnourishment. Merlin's beard, once you're conscious I'm going to stuff a dozen nutrient potions down your throat!"

"I thought mediwitches took an oath to help, not hurt, people, Poppy."

"Hello Albus," the woman nodded shortly. "He was asking for you earlier."

"Did he say anything else?"

"Something about Whitehaven," Poppy divulged, glancing at the headmaster out of the corner of her eye. She frowned harder at the calculating expression on his face. "Albus, if you know what's happening to him…" She trailed off threateningly.

"It's nothing you or I can do anything about Poppy," Albus sighed, suddenly looking very much his age. "I wish we could, but we can't."

"Is it some kind of a curse?"

"You might say that," Dumbledore nodded slowly. "It can't be 'cured' per say; not in this life."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is wondering where/what Whitehaven is:
> 
> According to Google, there is a section of England, Cumbria, which is known as "the lungs of England". Whitehaven is a town that's roughly in the middle of Cumbria. As to why/what happened to/in Whitehaven, well, you can all take a very educated guess, but it will be explained next chappie.
> 
> Also, Torchwood! ^o^ For those of you who don't know what the heck it is, it's a spinoff series of Doctor Who with a very, very smexy main (CANON!) pairing of Ianto Jones and Jack Harkness. You don't really have to know much about the series, as SG-chan will attempt to include brief (and hopefully thorough/concise) explanations with the Torchwood stuff. As for why Ianto is Wales, well, I warned you that if you ask me I will provide you with a rant, so you've been warned.
> 
> I know that a couple of the Ravenclaws I used don't exist; that's why this is fanfiction. I'm not sure if it was ever said what year Lisa Turpin was in, so I just put her in fifth year. Also, Sneaky!Luna is totally boss. Just saying.


	13. Awkward Reunions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashback warning! Also, SG-chan's Brit Lit teacher is amazing, cause he didn't tell her that she couldn't do a research paper comparing FrUK vs. USUK. If anyone's interested, I'll message you the link for the paper if you'd like to read it ^^
> 
> The key returns! 
> 
> Ancient English (Iggy's spells, etc.): "{insert text}"

" _{My lord, you shouldn't bother with this!}" the young woman chided as she took the cloth the boy had been set on repairing with his magic._

" _{But, everyone's fighting over me and I-I can't do anything b-because I'm too small… I just want to help,}" Albion whispered miserably._

" _{So you want to help fight?}" she asked, her grey eyes filled with compassion._

" _{Yes, yes! It isn't fair for the person this impacts the most to be left out!}" Albion protested, his green eyes sparking with indignation and anger._

" _{As you yourself said my lord, you are too small to fight. Let the knights do their duty in serving you, and in return, keep as healthy as you can manage.}" The young woman took his hands in hers as she knelt to his level. "{Sleep, my lord. Come morning I will begin teaching you to sew, that you need not waste all that Master Myrddin has taught you.}"_

_Albion nodded sullenly, trailing behind her as they walked to his room. "{When do you suppose Master will be back?}" he asked quietly._

" _{I don't know my lord,}" she sighed. "{I don't know.}"_

* * *

"Good Lord," Ianto chided as he entered the infirmary. "You're a mess."

"Shut up," Arthur muttered disparagingly as he struggled to sit up. He broke out into a soft coughing fit as the movement caused his chest to flare up in pain. While magic could help heal a nation's wounds – and really, they were damn fast healers anyway – it was next to useless if the injury was brought about by something that happened to the actual land the nation represented. "Either get lost or sit down; I don't know why Will called you," he grumbled.

"Probably because I'm the only one you have enough patience to deal with right now," Ianto said, not moving from where he stood. "What are you doing?" he asked as the blond threw back his covers.

"Getting out of bed," Arthur snapped in reply. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Arthur, you're going to hurt yourself!" Ianto protested as he watched the pain quickly cross the blond's face as he scooted over so he was now sitting on the edge of his bed.

"I've survived the fucking Blitz, I can survive this," England growled.

"Goddess above, you're going to kill yourself," Ianto sighed and walked over to grab hold of his brother's arm to steady him.

"Let me go!" England batted at Ianto's grip rather ineffectively because of the pain caused by moving too much.

"You're only hurting yourself by forcing onwards; you have to rest!"

"I didn't rest in '41, I won't rest now," Arthur seethed.

"You were alone then asides from us and the other Commonwealth; you aren't now!"

"I may as well be!"

"Why do you have to be so damned stubborn?" Wales blurted exasperatedly, just barely keeping himself from shaking his brother and injuring him further.

"It's about the only thing any of us have in common now, isn't it?" the other spat as he yanked away his arm.

"Get back into bed Arthur," Ianto ordered, dark blue eyes stormy with concern.

"No," the blond refused through gritted teeth.

"Don't make me knock you out," the Welshman threatened, crossing his arms. "Will called  **me**  for a reason and I dropped pretty much everything to come here and help you so you'd better damned well appreciate it little brother." Blazing green and stormy blue glared at one another, neither man willing to give in.

"Now now, what's going on here? I'm gone for two minutes and you have a visitor?" Poppy bustled in, effectively breaking England and Wales' staring contest. "What are you doing?" the mediwitch demanded. "You're not fit to be moving around!"

"That's what I said," Ianto said, giving Arthur a meaningful look.

"Piss off," he grumbled in reply.

"Don't you start fighting," Poppy warned. "Get back into bed Professor Kirkland."

"Do tell Will that I'm going to torture him most heinously once we meet on my terms," England informed Ianto sweetly as he was manhandled back into bed. "I'd do it myself but apparently I'm being confined here. I suppose I'll have to give you the password to my quarters."

"What?" Ianto blinked in surprise. "Why would I need your password?"

"Because that's where you're staying," Arthur told him. His expression lit up in sudden realization. "Didn't Will tell you that you'd effectively be working as my substitute?"

"No, he failed to mention that," Ianto said in a voice that sounded rather small. "I wonder why."

* * *

"Do we have any idea yet as to why Voldemort chose to attack this village?" Dumbledore asked through the two-way mirrors he himself had enchanted to be safe from all methods of eavesdropping.

"The place has been nearly burned to the ground," Alastor Moody informed him. "There are a few survivors; children who went to school a town over and a few people who'd been prudent enough to upgrade the wards on their homes with Voldemort's return; they were alerted and Flooed to safety." the ex-Auror's infamous eye fixed on Dumbledore, whirling as he spoke. "A man who claims to have seen the start of the attack before he evacuated his family says that the first place attacked was the house of an old man who, according to the locals, collected a number of rare tomes, magical or otherwise. He was found dead in the wreckage. The healers haven't figured out whether he died from torture or smoke inhalation but it's probably a moot point."

Albus rubbed at his temples. "So he was looking for something. But what?"

"I'll see if I can find an inventory of the man's books, but don't get your hopes up. With so many people dead, answers to our questions won't be so forthcoming."

"Thank you Alastor, you've been a great help." With that, Albus cut the communiqué. He sighed. "What on Earth are you up to now Tom?"

* * *

Ianto cleared his throat nervously. "Um, hello, I'm Ianto Jones. I'll be subbing for Professor Kirkland while he's recuperating, so could anyone tell me where you are in your books?"

"We don't use books," a second-year Ravenclaw piped up. "Professor Kirkland lectures us while we take down notes."

"Of course," Ianto muttered. "He would choose to do it that way. "All right, could you tell me exactly what you'd been learning about then?"

"We're in the Renaissance period right now," a Slytherin boy near the back spoke up. "Yesterday we started covering how the spread of Italy's culture affected the Wizarding World."

"Um, well, during the Renaissance period, erm, uh... you guys have all heard of Michelangelo right?" Ianto was grasping at straws now. History never really was his forte; he was perfectly content to quietly fight whatever came through the Rift. He liked to think he performed well during a crisis, but usually those crises were violent in nature - he had no idea what to do in this one.

Fortunately, salvation came in the form of an unwelcome visitor.

"Ianto!" Said man looked up, almost horrified to see Jack Harkness, trenchcoat and all, leaning against the doorframe. "You don't write, you don't call; I missed you!"

"Jack, I just saw you yesterday," Ianto sighed. He could feel a headache coming on. "How did you get here anyway?" Another thought occurred to him. "You didn't leave anyone else without telling them where you were going, did you?" At the slightly shifty expression followed quickly by a lady-killing smile (that did  **not**  work on Ianto, thank you very much) he gaped. "You did!" the Welshman accused. "You bastard! We were bad off enough when you left with that Doctor fellow with no warning, but now you just show up here after I told you  **specifically**  that I could handle it, and you - you bastard! Get out!" Ianto was extremely pissed now and he wasn't sure how long he could contain his temper if Jack stayed in his presence much longer.

"Hey, I'll have you know that I did leave a note!" Jack protested. "I explained to everyone that we were eloping-"

"What??"

"-not to expect us back for a few days, and if something that could potentially end the world came up, then to call me."

" **Out** ," Ianto growled, and stalked across the class to grab hold of Jack's arm. "Write down the ten worst ways you can think of dying - be creative! - and if I'm not back by the time you're done, take a nap or do homework from one of your other classes."

The students all exchanged glances as they heard an, "Ow! Stop gripping so hard! OW!" from down the hall.

"This should be interesting," muttered the Slytherin boy who'd told Ianto what they were studying.

* * *

"Where are you taking me anyway?" Jack asked, wondering when exactly Ianto had gotten so strong because he was pretty sure that he was going to bruise later where Ianto was grabbing him.

"I'm going to personally throw you from the front entrance," Ianto replied darkly.

"Could you at least tell me before you dismember me why you never told any of us about this?" Jack's tone wasn't accusatory like Ianto would have thought. "About magic?"

"How'd you arrive at that conclusion?" Ianto hoped his voice wasn't wavering. There was a reason his siblings never let him attend meetings as the UK's representative!

"Well, it's kind of obvious," Jack deadpanned with a slight smirk. "Plus there's a plaque outside that says "Witchcraft and Wizardry"."

"How'd you get here anyway?"

"Had Tosh hack your phone," Jack explained, grinning unrepentantly. "Did a little digging in some of the restricted files only I have access to, and things snowballed from there."

"This is only a onetime thing you know," Ianto explained quietly. "I spend barely any time in this world at all - I only came to check on Arthur, and only stayed because he needed someone to teach while he's recuperating."

"You a teacher?" Jack chuckled. "Ianto, you couldn't teach me how to 'brew tea properly'; you can't teach kids. School's pretty dry anyway."

"Some of it, yes," Ianto agreed slightly. "But not all. Come along now, don't dawdle."

"Wait, you're seriously going to throw me out?" Jack cried. "Still? After I was all caring and didn't kick up a fuss that you've practically been lying to me since we first met?"

"Now you listen here Jack Harkness," Ianto retorted, sticking a threatening finger in his face. "How many times have  **you**  kept the truth from us, sometimes in the face of a flat-out interrogation! Any lying from me is by omission and the fact that I couldn't have told you or I'd be breaking the law!"

A loud clatter punctuated his heated exclamation and the quarrelling lovers turned to see what had made such a ruckus. Arthur stood by a suit of armor that, judging from its position, he seemed to have just knocked over.

"Hello Ianto, you never saw me here, understand?" the blond ordered.

"Goddess above Arthur, you're  **seriously**  going to kill yourself!" Ianto exclaimed exasperatedly.

"I'm not spending another night in the infirmary," Arthur protested. "Keira only just managed to foil two of Peter's pranks, as apparently since I'm immobile I'm a good target."

"That's your brother?" Jack tilted his head sideways as if to change his perception. "You don't look it."

"We're half brothers," Arthur snapped. "And who the hell are you?"

"Captain Jack Harkness," the time-traveler introduced himself.

"Oh,  **you're**  Ianto's 'Captain Jack'?" Arthur's smile was far from the sweetness his voice was. "You should know then, that if you scratch right under-"

Ianto quickly clapped a hand over Arthur's mouth. "Yes, yes, let's not tell him such things, hmm?" Stormy blue glared into mischievous jade.

"Oh, you mean the spot behind his left knee?" Jack smirked at Ianto's shocked expression. "I notice things," he sing-songed.

"Right; Arthur, no talking, Jack, I'm still throwing you out," Ianto declared.

"Aww!" Jack pouted. "But I'll be missing out on so much fun!"

"So you didn't invite him?" Arthur asked curiously, directing a glance Ianto's way.

"No, he stalked me here," Ianto told him through gritted teeth.

"And you haven't told him yet?" Arthur's eyebrows shot up.

"I'll get around to it!" Ianto insisted.

"Haven't told me what?" Jack didn't like being in the dark. Being in the dark usually led to lots of pain and sometimes death.

"Are you mad? Didn't you realize any of the repercussions this could have had?" Arthur hissed, looking very much maternal as he put his hands on his hips. "True it's not like many people know your group exists, but keeping this from them? At least the people I normally work with know! And before you say anything, this teaching stint does  **not**  count."

"Wait, you told him about Torchwood?" Jack demanded.

"No!" Ianto protested.

"I helped  **found**  your organization, lad," Arthur snorted as he smirked at Jack.

"I though you said he was your younger brother." Jack's gaze slid back to Ianto.

"He is," Ianto mumbled.

"Ianto, how old are you?"

"I don't know Jack," Ianto groaned.

"No, seriously, cause, well, I'm not  **too**  old, but I like to know the age of my partner so I can kind of figure out what they might like, ya know."

"Oh, so you're having sex with him and he doesn't know?" Arthur facepalmed. "You could've gotten some sort of alien STD or something!"

"Okay, one, I use protection," Ianto glowered. "Second, you're younger than me, stop poking your nose into my sex life! I certainly don't try to trap you and Alfred in a closet while you're both drunk off your asses!"

"There you are!"

The three turned to see an irate Poppy stalking their way. "Back to bed for you Professor Kirkland!" the mediwitch ordered.

"But I'm – I don't-" Arthur stuttered as she prodded him along, both from surprise and in reaction to Ianto's retort. "Ianto! Don't you dare think you can weasel your way out of this one! If you don't tell him I will!"

The two men looked after Arthur as he was manhandled back to his prison – er, the healing clutches of Madame Pomfrey.

"I'm guessing magic people don't live too much longer than normal people," Jack remarked casually.

"Twenty or thirty years on average, sometimes more depending on a person's innate power," Ianto replied.

"You don't know how old you are," Jack stated.

"I have theories," Ianto said as he met Jack's gaze.

"You've got some 'splaining to do Ianto," Jack murmured as he slipped a hand into Ianto's.

"I suppose I do," the Welshman sighed as he gave him a small smile.

** Omake: **

"Fucker left us  **again**!" Owen Harper yelled, falling back in his swivel chair.

"What's the commotion?" Gwen Davies nee Cooper asked as she took off her jacket, having only just arrived at the Hub.

"Jack's gone," their resident medic snarled, his face set in a deeper scowl than usual. "Again."

"And he took Ianto with him," Toshiko Sato offered, a slightly evil smirk on her face as she handed a note to Gwen. Gwen decided not to dwell on the smirk, as the last time she'd gotten involved in Tosh's thought processes she'd ended up having to go through  **hours** of security tapes in search of any, ahem,  **activities** Jack and Ianto may have gotten up to.

So she read the paper.

 _Dear Team,_  the letter addressed.

_Ianto has finally stopped being such a prude, so we've eloped. We're on our honeymoon right now, so don't worry about us. Also, Owen, don't blow the place up while we're gone. Gwen, I know Rhys is probably lonely, so go back home and play your own naked hide-and-seek with him. And Tosh, change it so your screensaver isn't (obviously photoshopped (I'm way bigger than that!)) pictures of me and Ianto getting it on._

_Sincerely,_

_Your Captain and Keeper of Your Souls._

_P.S. If you all decide to have a huge group orgy, make sure to clean up._

Really, Gwen should have seen this coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked the little omake x3 And yes Ianto, you do have some 'splaining to do. You've been a naughy boy... *leers* 
> 
> Also, I've uploaded a gijinka that I made of Flying Mint Bunny x3 I think she's rather cute, so if you like you can go check it out at stargatenerd.deviantart/Flying-Mint-Bunny-Gijinka-283152315.


	14. Little Hints

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Key is not necessary, though there are five words of Italian this chapter.

"So  **that's**  what that scar on your chest is," Jack mused, his fingers splayed across Ianto's bare chest.

"Hmm," Ianto hummed in agreement. "That's the Rift."

"So when Billings went and loosed the Apocalypse…" Jack trailed off, his gaze raking over the scar just right of Ianto's heart that, now that he thought about it, looked slightly green. He voiced his concern to Ianto, who chuckled slightly.

"All's clear. It actually serves as a bit of a warning for me; green is all clear, blue is trouble but not too much, and red would be the end of the world."

"Huh." Jack rubbed a thumb over the scar, which, to his surprise, slithered under his touch.

"Probably reacting to the trace of the Rift still on you," Ianto murmured. "It's sensitive that way."

"Are  **you**  that sensitive too?" Jack smirked, leaning down to steal a kiss.

"Tease," the Welshman accused fondly, his arms coming around Jack's neck to rest on his back. A slightly pensive expression crossed his face, followed by one of realization. "So that's why."

"Pardon?"

"The first time I met you, you seemed familiar. Now I know why."

"Oh? Did you meet me sometime in the past?" Jack asked, his brow furrowing. "'Cause I'm pretty sure I'd remember meeting someone as sexy as you."

"No," Ianto shook his head. "It was during the Cardiff Blitz while I passed by a hotel."

"So when me and Tosh went back in time accidentally." Jack's hands were on autopilot now as they roamed over Ianto's chest as though it were the first time; which it kind of was, because now Jack was wondering what other parts of Ianto represented.

"I always wondered why that building gave me the creeps," Ianto remarked.

"So… is Rhiannon your actual sister?" Jack wondered. "'Cause, y'know, she's married and everything, so I'd think that'd be kinda hard to keep from her husband and kids."

Ianto shook his head. "Rhi and I kind of… hit it off when she was a teenager."

"You had sex with her?"

"No, though she was quite a looker back in the day," Ianto recalled. "I guess she was what you'd call a kindred spirit. Besides, my actual sister doesn't really like any of us, so it's nice to have 'family' that doesn't try to shoot me with a shotgun on sight."

"Geez, with family like that it's no wonder you seek contact with us lowly humans," Jack drawled sarcastically. He smirked slightly as Ianto's breath hitched when he ran over that one dip on his left side. Hmm, he'd have to ask what that one was later…

"Actually, I'm a bit of an exception," the Welshman replied, his own hands going up to play with the nape of Jack's hair. "We interact with our governments and leaders of course, but beyond that, none of us really form any lasting bonds with humans." A solemn expression crossed Ianto's face. "We live so long, sometimes things all mash together and it gets terribly confusing."

"Are you going to stay?" Jack's unasked plea of "Please stay" was evident in his eyes.

"Of course," Ianto smiled, kissing Jack firmly on the lips. "Joining Torchwood was one of my more brilliant ideas I sometimes get. Besides, I like hanging out with you guys."

"Are you going to tell the others?" Jack asked, shifting to lie next to Ianto as he shook the blankets slightly to allow both of them to fit underneath.

"I should," Ianto said after a moment of contemplation. "You took it well enough, but you know what it is to keep secrets."

"Plus I'm just that awesome."

Ianto chuckled. "You sound like Prussia when you say that."

"Isn't Prussia, y'know, not a country anymore?" Jack asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It's complicated," Ianto explained. "I don't fully understand it myself."

"Oh, if  **you**  don't understand then it must be  **terribly**  difficult," Jack teased.

"Oh shut it," Ianto retorted. "Go to sleep. I am actually here on business you know."

"I'll try not to keep you up too late," Jack promised mischievously.

"You won't be keeping me up at  **all**  in the near future if you don't let me sleep," Ianto promised.

"My hands are treacherous beings Lord Wales; I know not what they do!" Jack protested as one 'treacherous being' copped a feel.

* * *

"Good news Harry!" Luna chirped as she sat down next to the Boy-Who-Lived. "You don't have to worry about any of the teachers trying to kill you this year!"

Nearly everyone in earshot did a spit-take.

"Christ, would you warn a guy before you say something like that?" Seamus spluttered as he grabbed a napkin and tried to wipe down his now syrupy robe front. "Seriously, you could do some serious damage to somebody if you just drop a bombshell on 'em like that."

"And Luna, just why were you trying to figure out if any of the teachers would kill me?" Harry asked, not quite sure he wanted the answer.

"Well, the Defense Teacher  **has**  tried to kill and/or maim you every single year, and since Professor Snape is our teacher this year, and none of the other professors have tried to kill you during your school career, I figure that you're safe this year," Luna explained.

"I'm… honored you're that worried about me Luna." Harry was trying to keep from laughing. "But what about Kirkland and Karpusi? Don't they factor into this?"

"Professor Kirkland has been vouched for by a very good source, and Professor Karpusi is too lazy to be evil," Luna stated matter-of-factly. At the incredulous stares she received, she elaborated. "How many successful dictators are there or were there that are lazy? Hmm?"

"That's true," Ron got out around a mouthful of food, causing those nearby to flinch disgustedly.

"Merlin's beard Ron, chew with your mouth closed!" Ginny, being his sister, had no qualms about hitting him. "It's disgusting!"

"Berating Ron on his eating habits?" Hermione asked as she sidled in between Ron and Ginny. "Again?"

Ron glared at the girls on both his sides, making sure to swallow his mouthful before speaking this time. "I like food, and Hogwarts has good food, okay? What's so wrong with that?"

"You could try to be less 'shoveling food down your throat like your life depended on it' and more 'just eating'," Hermione drawled, smirking slightly at Ron.

"What, and waste away like Parkinson?" Ron snorted in reference to the female Slytherin who never ate anything beyond salads and a bit of fish.

"You'd just be controlling your intake instead of letting it run rampant," Hermione retorted. "Believe me, you could never fall down to her level."

"A bird couldn't fall down to Parkinson's level," Harry snorted. "Luna, what are you doing?" he asked as he felt one of her hands on his back, rubbing in circles.

"Oh, whenever diets and birds are mentioned alongside food, the Villowing vortchels tend to show up and cause backaches, so I'm taking preemptive measures," the blonde informed him.

"Oh. Thanks Luna," Harry smiled at her.

"Hey, what about me?" Seamus complained from Luna's other side.

She turned grey-blue eyes on him, never stopping rubbing Harry's back. "The vortchels don't like Irish people; their blood tastes too much like four-leaf clovers." The unspoken message of 'Back the fuck off' penetrated Seamus's thick skull and he turned to lay his head on Dean's shoulder, a childish pout on his face.

"You get too cozy over there and I'll hex your bits off," Ginny cheerfully warned Seamus.

"You're all so cruel!" the redhead cried, dramatically waving his arms out.

"Shut up Seam," Dean sighed. "You're not helping your case any at  **all**."

"Hermione, why don't you rub Ronald's back?" Luna suggested.

"Wh-what?" the bushy-haired girl exclaimed, her face turning an interesting shade of red. "Why on earth – virkels, or whatever they're called don't exist!"

"Hey Dean, mind if I rub your back?" Ginny inquired coquettishly.

"In the interest of preventing vortchels from making my life a living hell, I accept your offer," Dean replied solemnly, though the grin that graced his face nearly immediately afterward ruined the effect.

Hermione muttered something too low to be heard by anyone else as she flushed deeply while Ron merely had a small shy smile on his face. Luna hummed contentedly. It seemed her work here was done.

* * *

_Dear Mamma,_

_I'm doing well, thank you for asking. I hope you're feeling all right; you said in your last letter you might be coming down with a cold. I've been keeping an eye on Dray lately. He's been acting strangely, probably because he's got a super-secret mission the Dark Lord gave him. How do I know? You know better than anyone that it's impossible to resist Sicilian charm Mamma~_

_He's been reading through all these old books though. And when I say old, I mean_ old _. Seriously, these books probably date all the way back to the Founders' era! A lot of them have to do with different rituals, mainly sealing things away. That could be applied to anything though, and Dray knows it, the smarmy little bastard. Hopefully I'll figure something out. Wouldn't do to let us get killed, now would it?_

_Could you please inform Signore Vargas that, yes, Professor Kirkland does have gargantuan eyebrows. I'm not sure why he wants to know that, but I'm not going to ask. Also, please tell Uncle Feli that the pasta over here actually does taste okay, and it certainly doesn't taste like rotten scones. I don't see what that would have to do with anything either._

_You know, sometimes I get the feeling that you know something I don't._

_Don't forget to take your medicine Mamma, and keep Signore Vargas from spontaneously combusting. I've heard that can be quite messy._

_Love always, Blaise_

* * *

"Mail's here," Lovino Vargas grunted from where he was sitting at the kitchen table as Rosaria Vargas plodded in, still clad in her sky blue elephant-patterned pajamas. "There's something from your brat."

"Blaise wrote?" Rosaria asked, picking up the rather thick piece of parchment envelope. A smile replaced her usually stoic expression as she cracked the wax seal that kept it shut. She 'hmm'ed as she read the first bit of the letter. "You were right; England is teaching there."

"Well, it is his school, it makes sense. Don't know why you had to send him to a fucking British school in the first place," Lovino grumbled. Rosaria smirked slightly.

"I have my reasons." She chuckled. "It seems Veneziano told Blaise some horror stories about English food and he's disproved at least one of them." She got no answer that time besides muffled grumblings from Lovino as he buried his head in his arms. "What's got you in such a mood?"

"Fuck off," Romano demanded, though the severity of the request was somewhat lessened because it wasn't very loud.

"Let me guess, did Spain leave already?" Rosaria knew she was right when Lovino didn't deny it. " _Dio mio_ , you are so hopeless. You could at least let him know you'll miss him when he's gone you know. Let him know you love him and not just his dick."

"Shut the fuck up," Lovino snarled, his eyes flashing angrily at her. "He's busy with work and doesn't need me bothering him."

Rosaria spent a moment just observing him before she spoke again. "If you're this worked up why don't you go visit Veneziano? I'm sure you'll have fun berating him on his choice of spouse if nothing else."

"I'll be seeing him next month anyway," Romano replied as he got up and ambled over to the refrigerator.

"Oh, is that when your next stich'n'bitch is?" Rosaria inquired as she took out her own wand - 12 inch olive, mermaid scale core - and tapped Blaise's letter twice. The parchment glowed green before it crumpled in on itself and disappeared, transported to the box she kept all the other letters her 'son' sent her.

"Stop calling it that," Lovino groaned before he gulped down his glass of milk he'd just poured. "Or I swear to God, I will string you up by your thumbs."

"So cruel Lovinito," Rosaria pouted. "And here I thought you were a devout Catholic; taking the Lord's name in vain, really!"

" **Shut up**!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Italian words bear no translating because they have already been used in a previous chapter ^^
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed the Spamano, and LunaHarry and RonHermione hints! ^^ Oh, and guess what? Iiiiiittt's headcanon time!
> 
> *clears throat* Ahem.
> 
> Okey, so ya know that Lovi and Feli's formal names are Veneziano and Romano Italy. So in my mind, while they do represent North and South Italy at meetings, Feli is more a representative of Venice while Lovi is of Rome. So that is how Rosaria is Sicily ^^


	15. Injuries, Introspect and Ninjas, oh My!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hums "The End of the Ring" from the animated version of Return of the King* 
> 
> _The end of the fee, the return of the key; long may it rule and long may it reign!_
> 
> Ancient English (Iggy's spells, etc.): "{insert text}"

" _{No, no!}" the young boy shrieked, tears pouring down his face. "{He can't – Father can't be-}"_

_Unlike his companion, Albion was silent. "{Master is… dead?}" he inquired lowly. Hearing the young country say it only made the other boy cry harder, and his dark head fell against Albion's shoulder. Albion's arms came around to rest against the dark-haired boy's back, more as a reaction than any actual wish to comfort._

" _{I-it's a lie, right? F-father can't be dead,}" the dark-haired boy babbled, his voice muffled by the cloth of Albion's clothing._

" _{I'm truly sorry my lords,}" the young woman murmured, her own eyes pricking with tears as she hugged both boys to her._

" _{Don't worry.}" The two humans looked at Albion, whose green eyes were brimming with emotion. "{I'll make her pay for Master's death,}" he vowed._

" _{You truly will?}" the other boy asked, dark blue eyes hopeful._

_Albion hugged him tighter. "{Yes. I promise.}"_

* * *

Arthur woke gasping for breath as fire raged in his gut – no wait, that was his spleen. "Fuck!" he gasped. "I am going to kill that bastard! Prophecy or no prophecy, I'll disembowel him and then draw and quarter him, leaving the flies to feast on his open wounds for a few days before I finally allow him to  **die**!"

"Rather violent aren't you?"

Arthur turned in surprise to see Jack sitting in a chair next to his bed. "The fuck are you doing here?" the blond asked suspiciously.

"Watching you while Ianto's teaching," the time-traveler replied. "You know, in my experience when people get violent like that it's cause they've been injured."

"I guess you aren't just eye-candy," England admitted. "And yes, something's just happened with my spleen, so if you'd be so as kind as to get Madame Pomfrey, I'd appreciate that."

Jack's eyes widened and he went off to get the nurse. England lay back against the pillow and sighed as he tried to take his mind off the burning pain.

"And just what have you been doing now Professor Kirkland?" Poppy asked darkly, Jack trailing behind her.

"Lying in bed when my spleen exploded – or felt like it," the Englishman replied blithely. "It hurts something awful, by the way."

"No sass from you or I'll charm your mouth shut," the mediwitch threatened. "Or you," she included Jack in her threat.

"I'm just a bystander," Jack claimed as he raised his hands in surrender.

"Traitor," Arthur spat good-naturedly.

"I'm on Ianto's side because that's what will get me laid. Staying in his good graces means keeping you here and not doing anything stupid," Jack smirked.

"It isn't fair for eye-candy to have brains too," Arthur muttered.

"You sound like Owen," Jack snickered. "Are you undead too?"

"I bleed and I can have sex," England retorted. "Does that answer your question?"

"Perfectly," Jack replied.

"Stay still!" Poppy growled, pointing her wand right between Arthur's eyes. "I am not above stunning my patients who are too troublesome."

The blond obediently kept quiet as Poppy ran a diagnostic charm. As soon as she was done he asked, "Would it be too much trouble for me to write a message for Albus?"

"Would this have to do with your 'curse'?" Poppy asked.

"Yes," Arthur replied matter-of-factly.

She sighed. "I'll go get some parchment."

"Oh don't worry, I've already got somebody getting me some," Arthur informed her.

"Did you use telepathy or something?" Jack wondered, fixing Arthur with a curious glance.

"Or something," England replied cryptically. "Ah, thank you Keira."

"You're welcome England," the brunette fae who'd appeared in a small swirl of red replied cheerily. "I hope you're feeling better; Brigid is close to terrifying half the small Elves to death, and I can only run so much interference."

"Hmm, no, there's been a slight setback," England murmured, lifting his hand up so Keira could perch on his extended finger. "Just try to get her to do something productive," was his next suggestion. "And do try to keep her away from the House Elves."

"Um, hello? There's no one there," Jack said, confused.

"Ah, I guess your time abroad didn't automatically gift you with Sight," England lamented as he accepted the pen and paper that Keira had procured for him.

The other two were surprised to see the writing supplies appear in his other hand, seemingly out of thin air. "The universe is rather fickle that way," the blond commented as he transfigured the lap of his blanket into a harder surface he could set the paper on.

Poppy quickly snatched the two away. "Medication first," she informed him.

Arthur sat back with a huff. "Fine, but could we hurry? Every moment that passes could mean the death of another person."

Not sure if he was just being melodramatic or truthful, the mediwitch quickly made her exit towards where she kept her already made potions.

"You're bitchy when you get vindictive," Jack remarked.

"I've good reason for being so," Arthur muttered. "You'd act the same if you had a narcissistic, war-mongering psychopathic – probably sociopathic too – megalomaniac tearing about your country."

" **Really**  bitchy," Jack nodded to himself. "Ow!" he complained as Keira kicked him in the face. "What the hell?"

England chuckled to himself before he downed the pain-numbing potion Poppy had just brought. "Her name is Keira, and she doesn't appreciate being called 'it'." He quickly folded the paper in half, then in half again, and ran his fingers over the open folds. "{Here, leave this for Albus,}" he instructed Keira. She nodded and then disappeared with the paper.

"I shall sleep now, and dream of killing that snake-faced bastard," Arthur remarked rather absently. "I believe it shall be cathartic."

Jack shifted awkwardly while Poppy rolled her eyes and stalked back to her office, muttering under her breath about insane and overly paranoid wizards.

* * *

Harry Potter was thinking. Not that this was a bad thing, but about Professor Arthur Kirkland.

Harry'd been in the infirmary for the past half hour, waiting for Madame Pomfrey to get done with an antidote for the prank that somebody had hit him with that turned his skin blue and his hair purple. While he appreciated that the Weasley twins had apparently appointed a successor, he wished that they had been nice enough to inform him  **before**  he got caught in the crossfire.

To get back to the subject on hand however. Kirkland.

The professor had been quarantined at first, according to Hermione, but he could see now that he'd been moved out into the general area. Either Madame Pomfrey had figured out what was wrong with him and he was recuperating, or he wasn't contagious. Also, Harry agreed with the guy in the fashionable trenchcoat; Kirkland  **was**  bitchy when vindictive. He was also very loud.

It had been the very beginning of Kirkland's rant that stuck in Harry's mind. Not that the man's rant about  **how**  he was going to kill wasn't disturbing enough, but he'd said 'Prophecy or no prophecy.' To the best of Harry's knowledge, there was only one person that could be killed by only one person because of a prophecy, and as Kirkland had been swearing about a snake-faced bastard, he was pretty sure it wasn't himself the history professor was talking about.

 _Luna said that he'd been vouched for by a good source_ , the boy recalled.  _That's it. After I get out of here I'm talking to Dumbledore._

* * *

Heracles had never been one for sneaking around. That was more Kiku's thing; ninjas, you know. But it was because of Kiku, or rather on his request, that Heracles was doing this. Not being a ninja – well, not a traditional one anyway. He didn't like dressing in black; far too hot, plus it was a dreadfully dull color.

Anyway, to get back on track here (Greece blamed his quite creative imagination for bringing up images of Kiku dressed in sleek, form-fitting ninja garb).

There was no one else in the infirmary aside from England and a kid whose hair was purple. Weird. They were both asleep so, in theory, Greece shouldn't have had any trouble with his Kiku-inspired/given mission. Just to be on the safe side though, he uttered a low trill that wouldn't be audible to human ears. It was just on the edge of his hearing as well.

From all corners of the room pairs of different colored lights began to glow about a foot above the ground. A soft warbling filled the air as the Greek army began their chant to promote a good night's sleep. In this case, it would keep Heracles' target from waking up.

From within the folds of his clothing Heracles drew out a camera that Kiku had specially charmed to work in environments that were heavily saturated with magic, ambient or otherwise. He honestly couldn't see the 'moe' appeal in this, but then again, Kiku was always going on about 2D girls when he had a prime hunk of Grecian meat like himself to subject to his dirty, absolutely raunchy and, quite frankly, quite arousing –

Greece really needed to stop his brain from going off on Kiku-related tangents. It couldn't be healthy.

He quickly positioned himself above England's prone form, the self-proclaimed gentleman slightly drooling in his sleep. A light sleeper, the flash of the camera would normally have woken him, but for the cats' chant. Heracles took another picture, then one more for good measure. He clucked his tongue twice to dismiss his army, and they obediently slunk back into the shadows.

Kiku would be sure to appreciate these, though Heracles had no idea what his boyfriend would be using them for. Quite frankly, he didn't want to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...The Greece part is longer than the Harry part *facepalms* Ugh, why is it so much harder to write Harry Potter characters in relation to Hetalia characters? *sulks* It's totally not fair.
> 
> Anyway, more mysterious happenings are happening~ Can you guess why Kiku wants those pictures of England? No, he's not going to make a sexy body pillow of him - though I wish he would *pouts* One of my friends has a custom ordered body pillow with sexy Zero on one side and sexy Kaname on the other. I wish I had a USUK Hetalia one *pouts more*


	16. To Trust or Not To Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, SG-chan is now getting into more complicated backstories... *evil chuckle* No regrets here, no regrets.

" _Tch, stupid Spain," Turkey muttered to himself. "Asshole doesn't deserve such a cute lackey." He sighed heavily as he looked around the unfamiliar forest area. "And now I am lost. Shit." The masked man took a deep breath before shouting, "Why the fuck does all this shit happen to me?" to the sky._

 _He turned as he heard a rustling from the bushes to the right, his hand going to his scimitar. "Come out whoever you are," he threatened. "I've got a sword, I've just had a run-in with a cheerfully optimistic ungrateful asshole, and I'm not in a good mood. You_ _**don't** _ _want to try my patience."_

_The bushes rustled a bit more and then a small figure dressed in a dark blue hooded cloak stepped out. "Great, a kid," Turkey sighed. "Where's your family?"_

" _Don't have one," the child – a girl, Turkey noted – mumbled._

_He sighed. "What's your name, kid?"_

_The girl eyed him suspiciously. "What's yours, Turkish bastard?"_

" _Oi!" Turkey picked up the girl by the collar of her cloak. "You're addressing the Ottoman Empire you little snot, so watch your tongue!"_

" _Put me down!" She kicked out at him. "Dammit, let go of me bastard!"_

" _You're just as foul-mouthed as Spain's brat," Turkey snorted._

" _Bastard! Don't_ _ **talk**_ _about him!" the girl spat, her chocolate-colored eyes brimming with fury. "Why does he get all the attention…"_

_Turkey peered curiously at her. "Just who are you? I thought Italy only had two representatives."_

" _Let me go you bastard!" was the girl's only reply as she started to kick at him again._

" _Nah, I think I'll keep you," Turkey decided as he swung her up over his shoulder. "You're more interesting than anyone else I've found around here."_

" _Bastard! Put me down!" she shrieked._

_Turkey only laughed in reply._

* * *

"KitKats," Harry told the statue guarding the Headmaster's office.

"Hello Harry," Albus greeted the boy. "How are you doing? Not fighting with Mr. Malfoy."

Harry's feet shifted as he squirmed slightly in embarrassment. "He's up to something sir," he defended himself.

"Harry, Mr. Malfoy has to deal with his own dramas in life without you adding to them," Dumbledore said.

"So you know what he's up to?" Harry inquired.

"Young Draco's problems are his own," Albus rebuffed him. "Though I must say, you are most likely not here to talk to me about Mr. Malfoy."

Harry nodded, not even bothering to ask how the headmaster knew. "Yesterday when I was in the infirmary, I overheard Professor Kirkland talking about how he was going to kill someone, 'prophecy or no prophecy'. Now I know he wasn't talking about me because he followed up with calling whoever it was a 'snake-faced bastard'." Harry took a risk and allowed his eyes to meet the Headmaster's. "You said only you, Trelawney and Voldemort knew the contents."

"Ah. Arthur is a good friend of mine, and there is very little that happens without his knowledge, should he put time and effort into discovering what exactly is going on."

"That doesn't explain how he knew," Harry insisted.

"You are thinking that perhaps someone is yet again impersonating a close friend of mine?" Harry was beginning o grow a bit annoyed with those ever-twinkling eyes. Albus chuckled as he stood from where he'd been sitting behind his desk. "For one thing Harry, it would be impossible to create Polyjuice using Arthur's hair, for various reasons. Secondly, he has been in the infirmary for nearly a week now; don't you think it would be rather difficult to slip someone an unauthorized potion under Madame Pomfrey's care? In fact, the injury that put him in there is really what would prove who he is..." He seemed to come back to himself. "I'm sorry Harry, forgive an old man his musings. The point of the whole matter is that, quite simply, you need not worry about Arthur. He is certainly not out to kill you - in fact, should you talk to him you might discover some things about people you thought you knew."

"Is he an Unspeakable or something?" Harry asked as Dumbledore's roundabout exlanation went round in his head.

"Or something," the old wizard smiled fondly. "Is that all you wished to speak to me about Harry?"

"No, that's pretty much it," the Boy-Who-Lived admitted. He noticed something he hadn't before. "That's an interesting ring you have there sir. I don't think I've seen you wear it before."

"Ah, yes; it recently came back into my possession after having been lost for some time." Albus rubbed the opaque stone of the ring, a nostalgic look in his eye.

"Well I'm glad you found it sir," Harry nodded.

* * *

It was always difficult getting back to sleep, Peter reflected. He frowned in consternation. He wasn't quite sure why it was that it was always on the days they had Potions class that he became inexplicably, almost violently homesick. Maybe it was because potions were kind of like cooking, and Papa - the one time Finland had been called 'Mama' hadn't been pretty, and even Peter could tell that Tino had been being  **nice**  - was very good at cooking. Daddy Sve was too, but Papa insisted on cooking most of the time, probably because Daddy really liked the pink apron Papa had gotten from Francis that one Christmas.

Peter turned over, sighing wearily. Now he was feeling even worse! No, he was the Great Sealand, totally better than that stuck-up Seaborga! Wy was kinda quiet and Landonia kept to himself, but it  **had**  been his fault that Peter ended up in that terrible, terrible monstrosity of a dress. Seriously, who the hell took the time to sew that much lace on? Someone insane, that's who!

Peter nodded determinedly to himself. Yup, clearly insane! He sighed again. Sleep really didn't want to come tonight, did it?

* * *

"Achoo!" Belgium sneezed violently. She rubbed her nose. "Huh, I hope I'm not coming down with a cold," she muttered to herself. She then turned back to her victim - er, patient. "Antonio, you're being an idiot."

"But you always say that," Spain replied, confused.

Belgium sighed. "No, I mean you're being even more of one than normal. You love Romano right?"

"Of course!" Spain grinned. "He's so adorable, especially when he gets all embarrassed when I tell him he's adorable, and he makes a mean lasagna, even if he doesn't like to cook a lot-"

"Stop talking," Emma ordered. Spain obediently did so. "Look, you love him, and Romano loves you, even if he's always acting so, what's the word Japan uses, tsundere! Just cause you have to go back to your own country for work when you'd rather be with him doesn't mean you're abandoning him and forcing him to hate you forever!"

 _God, why did I end up as the counselor for the Europeans?_  she thought in frustration.  _Big brother's lolicon issues aside, everyone is just fucked up! At this rate I'm going to become crazier than Russia..._

"Emma?"

She turned back to Antonio. "Hmm, yes?"

"Can you untie me from the chair now?"

"Oh! Sure, sure. Just remember, the next time you need any help, don't beat up my brother to get it."


	17. Awkward Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anywho, here's what will hopefully be the last, or second to last chapter of filler. There is violence coming up people. Also, BAMF England. And other... _stuff_ (lightwolfheart I'm talking to you, stitch'n'bitch XDXDXDXDXD).

_"Rosaria!" Turkey snarled as he tried to contain the urge to tear apart the bushes with his scimitar. "Come out, I know you're hiding out here somewhere! You too Heracles!" Why, oh why had he thought taking care of two brats would be a good idea? All they did was cause mischief and band together against him. He was just glad that Spain hadn't caught wind of the girl's disappearance yet._

_"I'm not kidding, if you two don't come out soon I'll lock you out! And don't think I haven't found the rope made out of bedsheets you two buried underneath your room windows!" Which he had, and it totally wasn't because he'd threatened one of the staff to tell him. He was a nice guy, and no matter what Greece accused him of,_ **_not_ ** _a pedophile. "And the next time I go to bother Hungary I won't bring either of you with me!"_

_That got their attention and suddenly he had two children practically crawling all over him, not quite begging for his mercy, because the two of them were just too conceited little shits to sink down to that level of courtesy. Turkey gave a pained sigh as someone's foot - probably Greece's, given the foot felt pretty big - met his kidney._

_Maybe he should have left the kid where he found her..._

* * *

Arthur slowly walked around the infirmary, testing his overall balance. He'd been mainly sleeping the past couple days as he healed from both the attacks on Whitehaven and Bath.  _Who the hell in their right mind would even attack Bath?_  Arthur scowled at a twinge of pain from his abdominal area.  _For the love of Queen, the only reason anyone even remembers it is because of its mentioning in_  Pride and Prejudice _! There is no other value to it, that's why it's my spleen!_

A growl of frustration worked its way from the former Empire's mouth.  _I wonder how long I could keep him locked up before somebody important found he was missing; I'd dearly love to relieve some stress by torturing him – and_ _ **not**_ _in the way the frog is always suggesting._

"He certainly is working up a storm," Brigid remarked as England's ears started emitting slight amounts of steam.

"It's bad for his blood pressure," Keira sighed, shaking her head as she worked on darning her tunic. Really, Peter could at least  **try**  to put some less corrosive materials in those balloons of his; between Brigid's clothing (that sometimes was mysteriously drenched in various bodily fluids) and Maeve's clumsiness, she may as well open a supernatural dry-cleaning.  _Hmm, that's an idea,_  the brunette mused.  _If ever England dismisses our company I could open up a cleaning business. Or maybe a bar. I've enough patience to be a bartender, and Brigid could be the bouncer._  Keira stopped as she suddenly realized where her thoughts were heading. "I've been spending too much time with Minty," she declared aloud to herself.

"I thought she spent most of her time with Herr Shtick." Maeve was confused.

"I think we've been spending too much time around modern magic folk," Brigid snorted as she kept a keen eye on England, ready to extend her influence should he fall and break a hip like an old man-

"Or perhaps we've been spending too much time at Hogwarts in general." The dark Fae glared up at the ceiling. A feeling of  _mischiefapologylaughter_ wafted around them as the castle took credit for her subtle jabs in thinking.

"I think the longer Sealand and England are here the more the castle decides to be happy," Maeve giggled. "After all, Nation magick is so comfy to be around."

"Someone's got a crush~" Brigid teased.

Maeve blushed a light pink. "N-no, I don't! It's just, he makes England happy..."

"He does enjoy chewing him out," Keira observed as she snipped a loose thread. "Perhaps a bit too much, but he is in a great deal better mood than during the last war." The sisters fell silent as they contemplated their human-Nation's mannerisms. They continued to watch as England sat back down on his bed to catch his breath, his lungs still not up to their best condition.

"Well, I believe I have some Elves to terrorize," Brigid announced abruptly, her dark cloak fluttering slightly pompously as she stood.

"I'm going to go keep an eye on the nice lady with the glasses!" Maeve excused herself as she fluttered through the wall.

Keira sighed as she found herself abandoned. She shook her head, fingers flying over the almost repaired cloth even as a dark-haired boy came into the infirmary, his gaze falling on England before he walked over to the nation.

* * *

Ron took a deep breath. He could do this, he could do this!Nno problem at all besides the fact that he seemed to suffer from terminal foot-in-mouthitis when it came to, well, really,  **anything**  important.  _Okay Ron, you can do this mate. Just go in, find Hermione, and try not to make an ass of yourself. No pressure, just the future of your entire love life on the line._

The redhead promptly hit his head against the wall. Dammit, he couldn't do this, couldn't ask her just right out of the blue! Maybe if it was something special, like the holidays... yeah, Christmas! That was perfect, and all that mistletoe that seemed so annoying before might actually prove helpful now.

Nodding determinedly to himself, Ron walked off towards the kitchens instead of towards the Gryffindor tower. Seamus had been spending a lot of time there lately, and the Irish boy usually seemed to know all sorts of romantic advice.

"Dammit!" Ginny growled. She and Luna had been hiding in the bushes in the courtyard, near to where her brother had earlier been thinking aloud to himself, in order to run interference should anyone come to bother him. "I need a new plan!"

"Are you sure we can't just lock Hermione and Ronald in a closet?" Luna asked, feeding one of the radishes from her earrings to a little conere that had been following her.

Ginny frowned at Luna, who was feeding thin air now. "No, that lacks too much finesse for it to ever work!"

"We could get them drunk," Luna suggested in all seriousness.

"No way," Ginny shook her head. "For one thing, I do  **not**  want to owe the twins anything - 'cause let's face it, they're the only ones who'd help us with this. For another, too many variables. We know they both like each other, but we only have a month until the hols, and we need to get them together before then!"

Luna took a moment to admire Ginny's burning spirit before hitting her with a light Aguamenti.

"Thanks, I needed that," Ginny admitted sheepishly.

"Why by the holidays?" Luna inquired, sitting crisscross applesauce on the ground, not paying attention to the leaves in her hair.

"Well, Harry and I kinda made a bet on when they would get together, and the winner gets a favor from the loser," Ginny divulged reluctantly as she sat beside the blond.

"What is it you want Harry to do?" Luna wondered, her eyes more grey in color as she decided that best friend or no, Ginny was going to get bitch-slapped if she tried to make a move on Harry.

The redhead giggled evilly. "Oh, nothing too scarring," she said with a wink towards Luna. "Don't worry, I know you've got your own claim for him. I just wish you luck, 'cause I swear, he's more oblivious than Ron!"

"Thank you Ginny," Luna smiled.

"No problem, what are friends for? Besides, have you seen pictures ofHharry's mum?" Luna shook her head. "I look a  **scary**  lot like her. It's kind of creepy really; I mean, I don't want to give Harry an Oedipus Complex or anything."

"That's a Freudian... thing."

Both girls jumped at the sudden intrusion. "P-Professor Karpusi, what are you doing out here?" Ginny stuttered slightly.

"I was going to... take a nap. The stones here... aren't much harder than... those in my mother's home," he said wistfully. "Besides, Solembum gets... antsy if he's confined... for too long."

"Profssor, why are you wearing cat ears?" Luna asked, gesturing towards the plastic headband in Heracles' hair.

He fixed the girls with an inscrutable look. "Kiku digs my sexy cat ears." That was all the answer he gave before he curled in on himself like a cat and proceeded to ignore them in favor of napping.

"Should we..."

"Yes, let's."

The girls quickly crawled out of the bushes, only to run into trouble in the form of a more irritated than usual Snape.

"Miss Weasley, Miss Lovegood," the man ground out as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "While I understand the pressures of... hormones, please keep your rendezvous locations out of the public eye. 15 points from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw." With that the ill-tempered professor was on his way, having indulged in his favorite pastime.

"Did he just-"

"Yeah."

"Not that I don't think you're pretty, but-"

"Not that-"

"...way," they chorused.

"Let's go see if we can't go strongarm Ronald," Luna suggested in the awkward moment following.

"Yeah, let's," Ginny agreed. "That silence was  **waaay**  too awkward."


	18. End of Filler! (Maybe)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No key this chappie either. Thought I'd have to use this thing a lot more when I started...

" _Hey bastard, wake up."_

_It was dark. Funny, he could have sworn there was at least one candle lit in the room._

" _Don't die on me you idiot; I swear if you do Greece'll bribe his uncle to get you back!"_

_Heh, like the brat's father actually was a key player in his backwards mythology. Probably came from his 'mother' spoiling too much. Allah knew how much the brat had complained when he first became Turkey's ward, whining for his parent._

" _Everything always has to be about you, huh? Bastard!"_

_He really wanted to just make her shut up, cause seriously, her voice was pretty enough to hear sometimes, but right now it was just annoying._

" _You'd better not die you fucking Turk, or you'll never see your child."_

_Wait, what? He didn't have a kid. Hell, the closest thing he had to kids were Heracles and Rosaria, and the former hated his guts while he'd technically kidnapped the latter from her home and family._

" _I'm pregnant you asshole."_

_Huh?_

* * *

"Peter, could you come here please?"

The micronation nodded, giving a short, "Don't wait up for me," to two of his housemates, Mark and Jared. "Yeah Professor Jones?" he asked in a slightly teasing tone.

Ianto chuckled. "You don't have to call me that after class you know."

"Okay Uncle Ianto," Peter chirped. "What was it you wanna talk about?"

"I wanted to request a favor – two favors actually." Ianto motioned for him to sit down across from his desk. "First, while I do appreciate a good joke once in a while, this crusade you have going on against Arthur is getting quite ridiculous."

"What are you talking –" Ianto gave Sealand a Look and he promptly shut his mouth.

"If you know the people involved it's really quite easy to figure out," Ianto told him. "Arthur's in a bad place right now; you've not had much experience when it comes to wounds that come from the actual land, but he's hurting much more than he lets on Peter."

The micronation was biting his lip in a pouting expression. "Fine, I'll leave the jerk alone for now."

"Good. Now, to make up for taking away your primary target, I have someone else set up for you to prank as compensation."

Sealand perked up at the devilish smirk decorating his older brother's face. "Who?"

"Well, I'm really used to it, but it's getting kind of annoying, trying to teach while Jack's constantly making passes at people. So here's what I'm thinking…"

* * *

"Professor Kirkland."

Arthur turned to see someone who actually didn't make his mood plummet further just by being in the same room. "Potter," he greeted the boy genially. "How are you doing?"

"I'm good sir. You?"

"Ah, I feel well enough to not be constantly watched, but it has been my experience that doctors and nurses alike prefer to keep patients longer than necessary to make sure he or she doesn't end up in the hospital all over again."

"Heh, Madame Pomfrey is like that with me too," Harry chuckled as he took a seat on the bed opposite Arthur's.

"Ah yes, I've heard all the trouble you get yourself into young man." Arthur fixed him with a well-meaning glare. "You need to be more careful. If not for your sake, then for those who care about you."

"Would that be you too?" Harry asked.

Arthur's lips quirked up in a slightly bitter smirk. "I'd like to think so lad; as a teacher here all of you are my responsibility, not just those in my class."

"Especially me, huh?"

"I'm not here to  **spy**  on you lad, if that's what you're thinking," England scoffed. "Believe me, I have far better things to do in my time than stalk an angsting teenager." He had the distinct feeling that if he weren't a nation then it would've been entirely possible that Potter had basilisk blood.

"I was in here the other night when you were saying you were going to kill Voldemort." Potter was glaring now, his paranoia ramped up.

England merely snorted. "I'd like to. Unfortunately that thrice-damned prophecy protects him – you're the only one who is allowed to lethally wound him."

"The ones who know the wording of the prophecy are a very small group of people." Potter just continued to stare at England, his expression slightly more curious than accusing now.

"You talked with Albus, didn't you?" Arthur chuckled. "He thinks it's amusing when people have to deal with unexpected questions. Unless it's him being questioned of course." Potter was glaring again now, not pleased with the stalling, and Arthur sighed softly. "I know a lot of things that by rights I shouldn't, Potter. But you needn't fear me. I'm not a Death Eater spy or a Ministry flunky. I'm here to teach and protect you students; even if  **you** weren't here Potter, I would be." He smiled gently and took the teen's hand. "Everyone's special lad; some are just so in a more interesting way than others."

Harry swallowed as a strange warmth filling him from where the blond's skin met his. He didn't know how or why, but for some reason he felt inexplicably…  **safe**. "Sir… just who exactly are you?" He couldn't stop the question from escaping him.

Kirkland laughed softly in reply. "Someone whose existence may depend on you winning against that snake-faced bastard," was his cryptic reply. "Now you'd better get along lad, else Madame Pomfrey will chase you out for supposedly bothering me." Confused yet in agreement, Harry took his leave, his mind racing.

"That was cruel," Keira reprimanded from her perch as she slipped her tunic back on.

"Not really," England replied as he lay back in his bed. "He needs a challenge to chew on; from what Albus has told me, he stagnates and gets into copious amounts of trouble if left alone for too long." He shook his head, a fond smile on his lips. "Gryffindors."

"I heard some of the teachers talking about recruiting Greece for the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend," Keira informed him as she flitted down to rest on the nearest bedpost.

Arthur laughed. "That should be amusing. I wonder how many students will be able to sneak alcohol and other things past him."

"Will you be well enough by then?" the brunette inquired.

"Hmm? Most likely, but – what, you think I should volunteer?" Arthur blinked rapidly in surprise. "Huh. Perhaps I shall."

* * *

Jack hummed contentedly to himself as he walked down the corridor to Ianto's classroom. Today was a good day. His sources (a couple of seventh-years he'd bribed by promising them pictures of him and Ianto shirtless) had informed him that soon Ianto's previously unknown brother would be up and about, ready to teach, so they'd be back to Torchwood soon enough. And none too soon, as even though Ianto's alerto-scar (which was still kinda weird, cause seriously, it  **moved** ) hadn't even gone pink, he didn't trust Owen not to mess something up. Or Gwen. Or for Tosh to try to turn the Hub into a brothel or something.

Anyway, his distrust of his non-immortal teammates (except for Owen, who was even more of a dick than before he'd died) aside, Scotland had been a nice reprieve. Hmm, maybe if the Doctor showed up again anytime soon he could ask for them to go back and meet these Founders he'd been hearing so much about. It'd be something interesting to hold over Ianto and the rest of the world in general, that was for sure.

The immortal and dashingly handsome time-traveling captain (51st century pheromones were the  **bomb** ) sauntered into the classroom, fully intent on perhaps casually molesting Ianto if he didn't have a class. He internally did a little dance as he saw the classroom empty with Ianto at the chalkboard, his back to him.

"Hey Ianto, your brother's gonna be in tip-top condition soon," Jack informed the Welshman as he fiddled with a couple things on his desk.

"Oh, that's good," Ianto said as he turned around.

Jack could only stare in shock as a Weevil-version of Ianto smiled at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh heh, and thus ends the intro arc! ^^ Hah, intro arc she says XD But, yeah, after this we finally will get back to some plot. Sadly, this also concludes the Torchwood segment of the fic. That I know of that is. Ianto and Jack might surprise me and somehow slip into the story again just like Scotland did *shrugs*
> 
> So, hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and y'all will enjoy the next chappie! Ahh, BAMF!Iggy... *dreamy stare*
> 
> Oh, and there is a USUK drama CD out that has them having sex. Just saying.


	19. Fair is Foul and Foul is Fair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Chapter 19 is here (damn this story's getting long and we're not even half done! x3), with BAMF!Iggy starring as the main character. For maximum effect, I suggest listening to 'Discord', the EuroChaos mix while Iggy's being a BAMF in an adorable sweater vest, cause that's what SG-chan listened to while writing the last half of the chapter ;3 Also, she's kind of surprised that no one commented on the flashback of last chappie. It actually is kinda important…
> 
> Yay, return of the language key!
> 
> Ancient English (Iggy's spells, etc.): "{insert text}"

The weekend arrived swiftly, and all those able to go were in a tizzy, intent on spending the day away from school in idle pleasures.

Heracles just wanted to get away from Peeves. The poltergeist had apparently gotten it in its head that, yes, the Grecian was a viable target for pranking, especially as England's brother and his boss/lover/whatever he was were gone. Well joke's on him; he was going to send Kiku an owl while in Hogsmeade (and why were wizard places named so weirdly anyway?), asking for a batch of top-grade ofuda. So soon it'd be bye-bye ghostie!

Greece allowed himself a moment to bask in the impending victory before he yawned widely. He was going to have a time being responsible and staying awake today…

* * *

Arthur stretched slightly before he fastened his forest green cloak about his throat with a plain brooch. His tunic-like shirt was light against his skin in order for him to be able to breathe freely. For some reason Poppy thought a normal shirt might be too constricting. Arthur really didn't see why; after all, he'd gone through bloody D-Day with his chest practically falling apart. How on Earth could supervising children be as taxing?

He really  **was**  looking forward to looking after them today.

"Make sure no one breaks in," he warned Keira and Maeve. Brigid was off… somewhere, it really was just best not to ask. "I wouldn't put it past karma or the universe or something for France or someone to break in right after I'm on the mend."

"We'll make sure no one gets in!" Maeve cheered as she glomped Keira from behind, molding herself against the back of the other fae.

"She got hold of some Mountain Dew," Keira explained.

Arthur winced. "Good luck," he said before he left down the corridor.

"You too!" Keira called.

"Can I have some Pixie Stix?" Maeve whined.

Keira merely sighed.

* * *

Harry looked around for any sign of Hermione and Ron. After a moment he spotted them a bit down the path to Hogsmeade, walking side by side while laughing about something. He started off in a job to catch up with them, but was stopped as a blonde blur tackled him into some bushes.

"Expell-" was all he got out before he saw who it was. "Luna!" he exclaimed none too calmly. "What the  **hell**  was that for?"

"Oh, I saw a Noperabou stalking you," Luna explained. "They turn people into faceless blobs, and I couldn't let that happen to you; I rather like your face the way it is."

"Luna," Harry gritted out. "First off, I highly doubt that Noperu thingies would be interested in me, and second, would you  **please** get off my lap?"Luna turned an interesting (and pretty, part of Harry's mind noted) shade of pink before she rolled off so she was no longer straddling Harry. "Thank you," he sighed. He frowned. "Did Ginny put you up to this?"

"To what?" Luna asked the air to the left of Harry's head.

"To… stalking me, so Ron and Hermione can spend more time together," Harry explained getting slightly annoyed. He blushed as he felt Luna's hands on either side of his face, fingers poking slightly into his cheeks.

"Hmm, you don't seem to have been bitten by any shticks," she frowned as her hands slipped so she was now holding Harry's face in a Vulcan mind meld position. "They promote paranoia you know."

"L-Luna," the boy stuttered as their faces were barely three inches apart.

"Let's just go to Hogsmeade and have a fun day, okay?" Luna asked, smiling softly.

"O-okay," he agreed. He didn't protest when she stood and, taking his hand, led him back onto the main path. Neither of them seemed to notice the people who watched them come out of the bushes, looking slightly rumpled, both blushing slightly as they walked down the path.

* * *

Arthur smiled nostalgically as a group of fourth-years ran past him, laughing.

"Don't tell me you're… enjoying this," Heracles groaned next to him as he leaned against the building, Mount Athos crooked in his arm.

"Well, then why the hell did you volunteer?" Arthur asked, his gaze never leaving the groups of children that cluttered the streets.

"I didn't. Slughorn backed out at… the last minute, claiming he had… some sort of meeting to attend." Slate-green eyes darkened to almost grey in irritation and anger.

Arthur merely laughed in reply. As he watched the children mill around he couldn't help but give a nostalgic sigh. He rubbed absentmindedly at his left wrist. Perhaps it was the November chill that was making his bones ache.

He felt a large group appear suddenly near the center of the village. A split second before the screams started he felt the unmistakable oiliness of the Dark Mark. "Start getting students to the Three Broomsticks and Floo them to the castle," England ordered. "Now!" he barked when Greece didn't move to go immediately. The brunette shifted so that Mount Athos was hanging from his grip now, ready to bash in the heads of anything that impeded his path.

* * *

In the cellar of Honeydukes a well-hidden trapdoor popped open just enough for someone to see if there was anyone already in the storeroom. After a moment, a small form crawled out of the passage, Hogwarts robes a size or two large billowing around it. A metallic-colored wand was drawn and after a moment, the person didn't look like a first-year any longer, and his normally sea-blue eyes were now violet, reminiscent of his Papa.

"Show time," Peter muttered to himself as he grinned and made ready to sneak out of the cellar.

* * *

As soon as the screams had started, Harry had run towards the sounds of battle, Luna close behind him. Ron and Hermione were already at the scene, herding the younger students away while some older members of the DA shot numerous  _Stupefy_ spells.

"Fancy meeting you here!" Harry quipped above the spellfire as he starting adding his own spells of  _Stupefy_  and  _Expelliarmus_  to the fray.

"Bout time! Ron replied. "'Mione, help cover me!" The bushy-haired witch cast her strongest  _Protego_  to shield him as he joined Harry with shooting more offensive spells at the Death Eaters. By now, Ginny, Neville, several other former DA members, and some seventh-years had shown up and were casting their own spells at the Death Eaters, trying to keep them from scattering and getting far from the center of town.

This succeeded for a moment until  _Crucios_  and  _Avada Kedavras_  started flying.

"Take cover!" Harry shouted, though that was a bit of a moot point as not everyone was  **that**  stupid. As Harry dived behind a nearby building, he collided with another person. "Ow!" he bit out.

"Oh, Harry!" He looked up to see who it was.

"Peter! What the hell are you doing down here?"

The first year looked sheepish (and was it him or did he look… older?) as he rubbed at the back of his head. "Well, heh heh, you see I drew the short straw to come down to replenish the first year's chocolate supply, and, well… I didn't expect to almost get killed when some guys in black stormed Honeydukes!"

"Oh, so  **that's**  why there's a bunch of frozen people in the store."

Peter froze. "H-hey there Arthur…"

The professor's expression was more serious than Harry had ever seen, and there was a look in his eyes that made him look more than a little furious. "Once I've taken care of this mess you are grounded young man, I don't care what Tino or Berwald say." He unclasped his cloak, which he then draped over Peter, refastening it around his brother's neck. "Stay here." Kirkland turned his gaze to Harry then. "Make sure he doesn't do anything even more monumentally stupid Potter."

His throat was dry at the promise of death and destruction he could see in the professor's verdant eyes, and, unable to speak properly, he merely nodded.

Kirkland's smile was nothing short of disturbing.

"{Let's see, how many should die today?}" England wondered aloud as he picked up a charred block of wood that turned into a plain-looking cutlass with just a thought. He cocked his head to the side, the insidious whispers of creatures long forgotten gracing his ears for a moment before they were gone as some form of sanity reasserted itself. "{Leaving it to Fate then,}" he mused. He smirked. "{Excellent.}"

"Excuse me!" England called as he walked out into the middle of the battlefield. By some miracle none of the spells already flying seemed to hit him. Death Eaters and students alike stared in shock as the somewhat scrawny-looking man wielding a sword merely strolled into the middle of the chaos. "I do hate to interrupt, but as a gentleman it's only fitting that I give you a sporting chance. Either surrender yourselves now or I'll have to kill you all."

The only response to that was a disbelieving silence. England sighed. "Look, I'm really not in a good mood right now since you've interrupted my day, and on top of that stooping so low as attacking  **children** , so either give yourselves up or I'll be forced to take more drastic measures."

He merely sidestepped the killing curse that made its way from someone in the group of Death Eaters. Its specific origin didn't matter as he merely smiled, looking not a little unhinged, and said:

"I hoped that would be your answer."

No one there, not even Peter, clearly saw how it happened, but one minute Arthur was standing there, the next he was in the midst of the attackers, and one Death Eater was down a head. Chaos erupted once again as, in such close quarters, it was difficult to fire off curses without some risk of friendly fire.

"Come not between the dragon and his wrath, for there's a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will!" the island nation cackled as he slid from victim to victim, occasionally beheading one while another fell prey to a particularly hard slice to the torso or across the back.

 _Really, this is quite therapeutic,_  England thought as he decimated the group who'd been hand-picked by the Dark Lord himself to sow terror and destruction in the younger generation.  _I should have done this during the first war; would've made things much more bearable._  He would never admit any of this to France though, so perhaps it was best that he felt more than a little like he was falling apart inside.

"Arthur!"

The call of his name brought the blond back to reality, and he stopped where he was, not thinking of how dangerous that possibly was. He barely registered the bodies surrounding him, some dead, some terribly wounded, all by the stained false blade in his left hand.

Funny, when had he switched hands?

"Ah, hello Albus," Arthur greeted cheerfully, a deceptively gentle smile upon his face. "I do apologize; I fear I may have gone a little overboard. You know I do so hate those who prey on children, and traitors even more." His tone had turned icy by the end, causing several of the students still there, those who hadn't been ushered away from the scene, to shiver in fear.

"Are you… quite all right?" the aged wizard inquired slowly, the Elder wand vibrating slightly in his grasp, the ancient magicks that had gone into making the unbeatable weapon recognizing the feeling of death, and caused by a very powerful being nonetheless.

"What's done is done," Arthur shrugged, his expression still that pasty smile. "Have the aurors been called?"

"One of the first things we did," Minerva informed him, her hand slightly twitching as she had to stop her reflexes from taking over and cursing him on the spot, or at least banishing the sword. It was all rather disturbing.

"Good, good," England nodded absentmindedly. He strode back towards Peter and Harry were, the sixth-year standing slightly protectively in front of the younger-looking boy. "Thank you Potter, for making sure he didn't do anything much more stupid."

"Now that's no way to speak to your brother," an obnoxiously familiar voice scolded.

England turned, murderous promises dancing in acid-green eyes. "Matthias."

"Yo!" Denmark gave a slight salute, still grinning at the other as he melted out of the shadows of a building that had been relatively undamaged by the battle. "Still as prissy as ever I see."

"Please don't speak out of turn; you lower the IQ of your whole country when you do," Norway sighed as he stepped out beside the other Nordic.

"Aww, don't be so cruel Norge!" the spiky-haired blond pleaded. "You love it when I talk, especially when I talk dir –"

"No I don't. Good to see you again Arthur, though I wish it were in less… violent circumstances." Norway's curl bobbed up and down as if in agreement.

"Lukas. Try to keep your dog muzzled, would you?" England inquired sweetly.

"You would do well to keep your own shackled as well," Norway replied. "He tends to get quite annoying, especially as he continually confuses me with Berwald."

"I told you, I'm not his keeper." The Briton glared as the two Nordics shot him a deadpan look.

"Pff, yeah right, the whole world knows you've been carrying a torch for – " Denmark was interrupted as Peter took this opportunity to glomp him. "Hey shrimp! You haven't died from the old man's cooking yet, have you?"

"I'm not that much older than you, and my cooking is just fine!" Arthur steamed.

"Yeah, sure, Gil just decided not to breathe for a few hours for the fun of it is all," Matthias snorted.

"How are Papa and Daddy doing?" Sealand asked.

"Fine," Lukas answered shortly, cutting off Matthias with a glare before the Dane could go into a rant on how Sweden was a total pansy compared to him.

"Touching as this all is, just what exactly are you doing in my territory?" England's eyes were nearly glowing with malice now, along with irritation at being ignored, and Norway knew from the numerous bodies, not to mention the blood-stained sword, that any answer he gave that the island nation deemed unacceptable would not be met with merely scathing words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwa ha ha, leaving off with a cliffie, cause SG-chan's evil like that desu ;3 Also, it is SG-chan's slight headcanon that Iggy, when slightly snapped, has the habit of quoting Shakespeare in battle. The quotes were from King Lear, Macbeth and Hamlet if anyone's interested.
> 
> Hope everyone liked the inclusion of the Nordics! Originally it was just going to be Norway, but then Denmark worked his sexy self in there somehow. By that, I mean the "Suck my dick, I'm Denmark!" meme popped up on Tumblr again. Speaking of Tumblr, SG-chan has her own now that she doesn't share with Mel (mine is sgchan.tumblr.com if you're wondering).
> 
> Reason I'm telling y'all this? Welp, I got to know the readers of my DCMK fics pretty well, so now I wanna get to know the readers of my Hetalia stories! ^^ Seriously, drop on by and just drop a hello if that's all you have the time for.
> 
> Ah, enough plugs. Hope everyone liked this chapter, the LunaHarry shiptease, slightly snapped!Iggy, and 2/5 of the Nordics. 
> 
> Comments/reviews are appreciated! ^^


	20. Mentally Unstable Perhaps?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, guys, I am like the most awesome person ever; my subconscious makes Scandinavia and the World references (refer to last chappie) x3 
> 
> Moving right along to the actual story, we introduce a new language this chappie for the language key! W00t! *confetti rains* Also, I hope you enjoy introspective Snape, and more bitchy!Arthur.
> 
> Also. Next chappie. Stich'n'Bitch Wolfy~
> 
> Welp, enjoy the Stargate-esque beginning x3
> 
> Le obligatory language key (now w/Norwegian!):
> 
> Norwegian: "§insert text§"

_(In a voice similar to Christopher Judge's) Previously on A Wonderful World of Magic:_

_"Touching as this all is, just what exactly are you doing in my territory?" England's eyes were nearly glowing with malice now, along with irritation at being ignored, and Norway knew from the numerous bodies, not to mention the blood-stained sword, that any answer he gave that the island nation deemed unacceptable would not be met with merely scathing words._

_And now, for the conclusion._

* * *

"I came for Peter," Norway replied to England. "He owled me a couple weeks ago about his wand acting up. Now was the earliest time I could get away from my duties."

"I provided the distraction!" Denmark proclaimed proudly, puffing up like Iceland's pet when it was in one of its Mafioso moods.

"Yes, I'll be cleaning up fish for months when I get back," Lukas sighed, his nose wrinkling in slight disgust. Really, by now he should've gotten used to Matthias's antics, but then again, it's also said that time heals all wounds, and everyone knew that was (mostly) a load of bull.

"You made his wand?" Arthur asked, the malice still present in his eyes as a hint of regret invaded slightly.

"Well, I am the more skilled of us when it comes to shaping things," Lukas said. "And you were busy here." He beckoned to Peter, who obediently handed Lukas his wand as he came over.

"Oh Zeus, what did you… do now?" Greece asked as he arrived, his expression only slightly changed from his usual 'bored with the world' one as he took in the scene of carnage.

"Professor Karpusi!" Dumbledore's eyes shouldn't have been twinkling, they really shouldn't have, but they were. "I trust that you and Severus can keep an eye on things here?"

"Wait, what?" Arthur, Heracles and Snape all chorused. It would have been a lot funnier if there weren't so many dead bodies around.

"Minerva, if you and Filius could begin helping to fix some of the buildings while Pomona, you contact Poppy and take the rest of the students back to the castle?" It was a cross between an order and a suggestion, but they'd spent so many years where Albus's decisions had proven right time and again that they obeyed (almost) without question.

"What will you be doing Albus?" Flitwick asked curiously.

"I shall be escorting the Aurors to the castle," he replied, the twinkle dimming. "The press would have a field day with this," he gestured to their surroundings. "Arthur, we shall have to have a talk later."

As the teachers left to their various tasks, Heracles sighed. "You had to in front… of the students?"

"Oh yes, so I should have asked the Death Eaters to let them all get away so I wouldn't damage their precious little psyches," Arthur snarked. "Yes, that would have worked out ever so nicely, except for the fact that it would probably be more scarring to see your classmates murdered in front of you! Besides, I asked them nicely to surrender and they didn't."

Denmark cackled softly at this. "Of course they wouldn't; you're insane." He pouted when the others merely glared at him.

"Honestly, I'm trying to concentrate over here!" Norway complained. "§That's right, keep holding it,§" he told Sealand. "§Like that, feel the energy in it.§"

"§Norge, what are you doing?§" Matthias asked as he peered over the platinum blond's shoulder.

"§Fixing Peter's wand, now do not bother me or I'll turned you into an actual ass to match your behavior.§" Matthias whined at Lukas's glare, then sat down on the ground next to Snape.

"I'm not that annoying am I?" He brushed off the Potion Master's disapproving glare. "He's always telling me I am. You ever had someone who sends out that many mixed signals? It's hell on my sex life I tell ya."

"Please stop," Snape not-quite groaned. He felt for sure that Lily Potter was making this happen, torturing him with all these awkward situations. It wasn't his fault her son was such a trouble magnet!

"No, no, seriously," Denmark insisted. "Every time I try to do something to spice things up, or even be romantic, he always shuts me down, going 'No Dan, we can't have sex,' or 'No Dan, you're being an ass,' or 'No Dan, now shut the fuck up before I castrate you for being a whiny little bitch you-'"

" **Ahem.** " A cold an icy aura not unlike a certain Slavic nation's presence permeated the air behind Severus and Matthias. "Do  **not**  make me ruin the work I've put into Peter's wand by overloading it," the blond threatened lowly, dull blue eyes sparking as a purplish-pink aura suffused the area. "And you two, what's done is done and in the past, where not even the Norns can touch it," Lukas declared as he glared disapprovingly at Heracles and Arthur, who were still arguing.

Peter noted inside his head that when Norway had his hands on his hips like that he looked an awful lot like Papa Fin when he scolded him or Daddy Sve. He thought this  **very**  quietly mind you.

"I mean it, I will put you in time-out corners," Lukas added. With Matthias appropriately cowed and the other two just giving each other dirty looks (or what amounted to a dirty look for Greece), the platinum blond went back over to Peter and resumed his work.

Severus was meanwhile regaining control of his emotionless facial expression. Just what  **had**  been the spell or whatever it was that the blue-clad man – Lukas, his nearly eidetic memory reminded him – had utilized? It had been similar to the aura of a dementor, though it also reminded him of how the Dark Lord would sometimes use the link the Dark Mark provided to create fear and agony in his followers as he tortured him. To his knowledge however, this had worked most reliably on Lukas's… partner (and really, what was it with him running into the most embarrassing situations involving homosexuals lately?), as proven by the shivering mass at his feet.

And besides, having spent so long in the man's present, by now Snape was well-versed in the feel of the Dark Lord's magic, and that had definitely not been it. He mentally catalogued any other situations where he might have felt himself so… intimidated as such, but could come up with none. So either this Lukas fellow was a Dark lord in training, a dementor offspring, or he was just powerful enough to intimidate and cow others just by the feel of his magic. None boded particularly well for anyone on the man's bad side, or even on his good side really, because while he couldn't see the sort of blind devotion Matthias – or was it 'Dan'? – had shown given without a damn good cause, it certainly didn't seem to matter to Lukas.

Severus was suddenly hit with a flashback of Bellatrix and the Dark Lord, and he shuddered. He  **really**  hoped the man was only there to fix the Kirkland boy's wand. Though, for the other boy to get a custom wand at his age, whether through charity obligations or because of other circumstances, was quite rare. Snape quietly resolved to himself to keep an eye on the boy in the future. And what  **was**  he doing in Hogsmeade anyway? Hmm, Minerva and his brother probably wouldn't be too hard on the boy, but then that's what he did best, now wasn't it?

England was in a right pissy mood just now. First he'd had to deal with Death Eaters on what should have been a lovely day out in the town, then he had to 'be held accountable for his actions' (a load of tripe, without him there would've been a  **lot**  more deaths), and then  **Denmark**  had to show up with that stupidly cocky grin and brash attitude that not only annoyed him in a sort of 'former rival whose guts I still want to rip out' sort of way, but also reminded him far too much of someone else in the Western hemisphere who –

He firmly cut that train of thought off, and only  **just**  refrained from sticking his fingers in his ears and humming very loudly.

What really put a rankle on the day was finding out that not only had Peter not bothered to talk to him about getting him a wand – hell, he hadn't known the brat was even coming in the first place until he'd seen that damned sailor hat in the Great Hall – but that he'd had the gall to get  **Norway**  to make him one. If he'd just bought a wand, sure, it'd sting a little, but at least his pride would have recovered quickly enough. For Ceridwen's sake, they were brothers! Brothers were supposed to help one another when the other brother needed something, and if certain blackmail materials were gathered in the process, well that was just a bonus. Arthur began to think that maybe, just maybe, as it happened that Peter  **was**  attending the UK's most prestigious magic school, that perhaps he should take the micronat –  **fort's**  education in the magicks held by nations (considering he might become one someday.  **Might** ) into his own hands.

As he directed his attention from glaring at Greece to where Norway was muttering something under his breath that made a small sea-blue glow wash over his and Peter's hands, he thought that it might be prudent to begin as soon as possible. After all, he didn't want the boy to become corrupted by the Scandinavians.

* * *

"That man is completely mental," Ron announced in the silence of the corridor as the Golden Trio, plus Ginny, Luna, and Neville walked to the Gryffindor common room. The younger students who'd been present at the scene in Hogsmeade were currently in the tender care of Madame Pomfrey, while the older years had been excused to go back to their rooms. "Like, seriously mental."

"We heard you the first time Ron," Hermione sighed. "And though I wouldn't quite use that terminology, I would agree that his methods were…"

"Insane? Bloody? Not fit for young children to witness?" Neville deadpanned.

"Yes, that," Ron nodded in agreement.

"At least no Noperabou showed up," Luna mused happily. "They take your faces you know."

"What, like a Kraken?" Ginny asked.

"Mm, not quite, more like they turn you into a white faceless blob," the blonde explained.

"Well that sounds lovely," Hermione interrupted, her tone tinged with sarcasm, "but I do believe that we have bigger issues at hand."

"You mean like is Professor Kirkland gonna lose it, go berserk and then murder us while we sleep?" Ron asked.

"No, I mean what was Peter doing down there in the first place," the brunette replied. She turned to Harry. "You were with him, did he say anything?"

"Aside from something about drawing the short straw and replenishing the first year's chocolate supply, no."

"Ooh, I thought I'd taken care of that last year!" Hermione fumed. "I'll have to have a talk with her…" she muttered to herself as she stalked off.

"Alas, the poor first years, we knew them well," Luna mourned.

"Just so casual, aren't you?" Harry chuckled.

Ginny and Neville shared an eyeroll, while Ron looked on confused. "Why does that sound familiar?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ron's obviously had at least a little bit interaction with Shakespeare beyond Iggy battle-quoting it x3 Also, I hope no one minded the long Severus introspective. It's damn hard, writing him when he's not being victimized y'know *pout*


	21. Pasta In the Oven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just have a warning for you all before you read this chapter.
> 
> You're probably thinking, "Warning? I thought the sex wasn't supposed to show up yet?" Well, you're right ya pervs (ha, like SG-chan isn't one herself x3), but this is different. This chapter contains what really started this whole story, and I hope y'all don't lynch me for putting it in here. Like, seriously, don't kill me for this, and if you do stop reading the story because of this, well then, I'll be sad. So anyway, warning has been given, go ahead and enjoy the chappie!
> 
> Also, stich'n'bitch.
> 
> Just saying ;)
> 
> The language key's disappeared again; I highly suspect it's hooking up with the anonymous reviews…

A week or so passed over which the Daily Prophet had a field day with the attack on Hogsmeade, and once again the current administration was brought under fire, for not only allowing such a force of Death Eaters to go nearly uncombated, but that they were able to come that close to the most populous school in magical Britain. The paper said that it was a miracle that those injured besides Death Eaters were few, and that the criminals themselves had been subdued by the professors who had been chaperoning the trip. The Quibbler ran an accompanying article about how a legendary warrior had come to the rescue of the students, and it wouldn't be long before others of such caliber appeared by way of a blue box.

Funnily enough, there had been sightings in Diagon Alley lately of a mysterious blue box which disappeared and reappeared quite randomly.

In any case, only a few people knew of the slight vacation Professor Kirkland's sanity had gone on (if it had even been there to begin with), so naturally the entire school knew about it by the next day. The students in his classes had been given a study hall period as Arthur was examined by Madame Pomfrey and a mind healer she trusted to keep the session confidential. Arthur had protested, saying that there was nothing wrong with him (at which Heracles had started snickering and then almost gotten strangled, the poor chap), but soon quieted down as he realized that protesting and making even more violent threats against Greece did not help his case in the least bit.

He supposed it was just as well that he'd given into his baser seafaring instincts, otherwise he'd have been sent to Azkaban for using 'Dark' magicks, and he really didn't want to have to kill any dementors; the things were hard enough to tame as it was. Besides, it wasn't as if being thought crazy was new to him. All the other nations who didn't believe in magic and/or couldn't see magical creatures believed him insane, though they'd never tried to lock him up for it beyond the time he'd gotten pissed beyond all belief and thought that the ATM machine had been a Dalek – ah, good times. All in all however, even after being pronounced ‘not likely to snap and slaughter us any time soon’, by the time Friday rolled around he was just slightly annoyed to receive a message reminding him of the meeting the upcoming day that apparently everyone had decided he would be hosting this time.

The following afternoon – Saturday – Arthur was fuming as he hurriedly cleaned up his quarters (not that they were messy or anything, he was just too much of a gentleman not to make sure everything was spic and span!).

"Who's coming?" Peter asked.

Ah yes, and England had intended to use today to start teaching the micronat –  **fort**  – how to sense the basic energy of other nations before this damn meeting had come to his attention. He might as well kill two birds with one stone then. "The Italies, Liechtenstein, and probably Finland," he replied. "Poland usually comes too, but he and Lithuania are off doing… something." He waved his hand to indicate 'something'.

…Okay, and so maybe he had just the tiniest soft spot and thought it'd be good for Peter to see his Papa. Maybe.

"Don't you have to have permission for people to come here or something?" Peter wondered as he caught a tray that had suddenly appeared in mid-air. While he hadn't quite gotten used to the fact that his youngest older brother had faeries following him about (and seriously, they were  **invisible**  too!), he was managing.

"Officially it's being marked as a diplomatic visit," Arthur said. "That's what Denmark and Norway's showing up out-of-the-blue was passed off as. It's handy sometimes, I guess, that Albus is known as the leader of a not-so-secret vigilante group."

Peter nodded in slight understanding. Sure he may have been over 50 years old, but he usually left politics to his prince. "So when are they going to get here?" The question was barely out of his mouth when the flames in the fireplace flared.

"I'm not too late, am I?" Liechtenstein asked as she gracefully stepped through.

"No, not considering the time differences," England grumbled. "I do wish you'd all given me some more time to prepare; my colleagues all think that I'm insane, I'll have you know."

"Oh dear, that's not good at all," the girl frowned worriedly.

"It's nothing new," Arthur waved his hand slightly. "I do my job well and that's all that matters right now."

"And how are you doing Peter?" Lilli asked the boy as she pulled up a chair to sit in.

"Well, classes are okay, though I did get in trouble for going out last weekend." Peter directed a glare towards Arthur, whose back was turned towards them as he put away some books.

"You could have gotten yourself killed!" the former empire rebuked, still facing away from them.

"I'm a nation too; I'm not that easy to kill!"

"Three and a goat Peter," Arthur retorted angrily as he whirled to face him. "You're a fort, a micronation at best; you're not as invincible as you like yourself to believe."

"U-um, maybe we shouldn't fight," Lilli stuttered. "I-I brought the quilt we were working on last time!"

"Oh, thank you." Arthur sat down on a chair he conjured up next to Lilli's and took one end of the quilt. "If I recall, I left off in the corner," he said as Lilli handed him one of the sewing kits she had brought with her.

Peter merely stared at the two in disbelief. " **This**  is what you guys do at your meetings?"

"Mr. Poland calls it a 'stitch'n'bitch'," Lilli offered helpfully.

"Man, I thought you guys would be discussing super important stuff!" Sealand pouted as he sat on the floor.

"Sometimes we do, but more often than not we just relax," Arthur informed him rather pompously. "It's nice not to have to deal with  **too** many idiots."

"Oh dear, I'm not the first one here this time!" Finland laughed as he came through the flames.

"Papa!" Peter exclaimed, throwing himself at the easternmost Nordic and hugging him tightly.

"O-oh, hello Peter!" Tino chuckled as he hugged the boy back. "Hello Arthur, Lilli."

"Good afternoon," the Englishman nodded.

"Guten tag," Lilli smiled. "Did you bring your own project with you, or will you be working with Mr. England and me?"

"I think I'll help you work on the quilt," Tino decided.

"Who's it for anyway?" Peter wondered as he walked with his Papa over to the others.

"Oh, this one is going to be for Prussia and Canada for their anniversary," Tino told him.

"The idiot at least knows to treat Matthew well," England muttered as he painstakingly began to cross-stitch a maple leaf in the corner. "Though if he steps so much as one centimeter out of line I'll have his guts for garters." The slightly unhinged look in his eyes was back, and Finland and Liechtenstein exchanged worried glances.

"Why would you want garters though?" Peter wondered innocently. "Aren't they women's clothing?"

Arthur scowled as Lilli giggled. "It's an expression; contrary to any rumors I am most certainly  **not**  a woman, nor do I dress like one."

"He's just expressing his distaste for Prussia through a wish for violence," Tino explained. “Though I'm sure he won't, right?"

Under the Nordic's knowing glare Arthur sighed. "Not anytime soon."

"Should we put a beaver on here?" Lilli asked as she tilted her head to look at the currently three foot by four foot patchwork quilt.

"Well, haven't we already got Canada's bear on there?" Tino asked as he leaned over the quilt.

Arthur shook his head. "I don't think so.

Off to the side, Sealand pouted slightly. When That Jer –  **Arthur**  had said he was going to have this meeting, he'd imagined something a bit more momentous, as well as  **fun**. Sure there was a lot of stitching, but the three nations present besides himself were very mild-mannered (most of the time – he shuddered when he remembered the one time that lady had been hitting on Daddy Sve), so there was really no sign of any bitching, even if Poland had been there – His musings were cut short as the fireplace flared again.

"I told you fratello, it wasn't 'Eyebrow Bastard's place'!" Veneziano fretted.

"Shut up!" Romano growled as he picked himself off the floor. "All this is your fault anyway."

"V-ve? W-what did I ever do to make you hate me so much? I love you fratello, I do; you're so nice and helpful, and big brother Spain really loves you too –"

"Will you shut up?" Romano snapped.

"Ve~," Veneziano whined, his eyes tearing up.

"Hello Feliciano," Lilli greeted, hugging the northern half of Italy tightly.

"Ve, hello!" His attitude did a complete 180.

"Hello Lovino."

The elder Italy didn't return her greeting, instead asking, "Does your brother know you're here this time?"

"Oh yes; I'm sorry about last time. He thinks I'm over at Miss Hungary's, and she can corroborate it, so you don't have to worry about bruder coming after you again with a high-powered assault rifle," Liechtenstein informed him happily.

"Small favors," Lovino muttered to himself.

 _Ah,_ ** _there's_** _the bitching,_  Sealand thought to himself.

"Oh wow, we're working on Canada and Prussia's quilt?" Feliciano exclaimed. "It's going to look so cute when we're done!"

"Would anyone like some food?" England asked. "I can get the House Elves to make some, since you're all coming from a couple hours ahead of us."

"Can I have something too?" Peter piped up.

"You'll ruin your dinner," Arthur denied him.

"Oh, surely it'll be all right just this once," Tino chuckled. "It  **is**  the weekend after all."

"Thanks Papa!" Sealand hugged him tightly. He couldn't resist sticking his tongue out at Arthur over Tino's shoulder.

The Englishman scowled before saying, "So will any of you be having anything? Veneziano, you'll be having pasta, right?"

"Ah, no thanks," the Italian declined.

*** Meanwhile, thousands of miles away…***

A dashing young man wearing an equally dashing bowtie stopped in the middle of lifting a couch.

"Um, Doctor?" a slightly plain-looking but extremely loyal man asked from the other end. "Could you move?" There was no movement, and Rory shuffled awkwardly to keep the couch from slipping and landing on his foot. "Doctor?"

The man with the bowtie blinked suddenly. "Oh, I'm sorry, I was elsewhere. You know, it's funny, but I could've sworn the Earth stopped for a second…"

***Back to Hogwarts***

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Oh, I'm not hungry for pasta," Feliciano replied cheerfully to England's query. "Do you have some pickles? And maybe some chocolate blueberry pancakes with salsa!"

"All right, what the fuck has that potato bastard been doing to you?" Lovino shouted as he took hold of his brother's shoulders and shook him.

"Ve- ve, nothing more than the usual," Feli's teeth chattered. "Like –"

"If it has anything to do with sex I don't want to hear it," Lovino said quickly. His face turned beet red as his brother said nothing more. "That potato bastard's corrupted you," he muttered angrily.

"Don't you say such things!" Feliciano screeched. "Germany's been nothing but kind and caring and helpful – well, there was the one time in 1943, but he forgave me for that!" The rapid turn from pissed off to thoughtful was artfully executed in such a way that only an Italian could have managed. "But don't say such things about Germany! He's really quite sweet."

Everyone just stared at Veneziano for a moment before England said slowly, "So you  **don't**  want anything to eat then."

"Hmm, now that I think about it, not really," the Italian replied thoughtfully. He then sat down next to Liechtenstein's chair and began to cheerfully hum under his breath as he examined the quilt.

"S-so, do any of you…?" England's question trailed off nervously as he tried not to stare in confusion at the back of Veneziano's head.

"I'm fine for now," Lilli replied, a thoughtful expression on her face as she observed Feliciano.

"S-some cookies or something might be nice," Tino suggested with a twitchy smile.

"Yeah, cookies or something," Romano agreed, slightly skittish as if his brother might go off at any second.

* * *

"Dray. Dray!"

"Blaise, if you don't stop shaking me I'm going to slowly eviscerate you," the blond enunciated far too precisely for someone who'd just been awoken.

"Geez, pent up anger much? Anyway, that's not the point. There's something really important I need to tell you."

This got Draco's attention and he sat up, his anger at his afternoon nap (research for dark mysterious purposes was tiring work!) being disturbed taking the back burner for now. "When you say it like that it must be at least somewhat deserving of my attention. What's gotten your outer drama queen in dramatics now?"

"Merlin you're a prick," Blaise pouted. "You could at least pretend you care!"

"If you didn't act like this most of the time I wouldn't have to," Draco drawled. "Now what did you think was so important you had to wake me?"

"I'm leaving you my will."

The two stared at each other in silence for a moment before Draco rolled back over.

"I'm going back to sleep."

"Hey, hey, don't!" Blaise dragged him back up. "I'm serious!"

"And I'm going to be seriously pissed off if you don't get to the point," the blond glowered.

"Okay, fine, I'll give you the rundown," the Italian pouted. "I'm leaving you my books, my wand, and my stuffed penguin, Mr. Pasta."

"Wh-what,  **why** do you have a stuffed penguin, and furthermore, why is he called 'Mr. Pasta'?" Draco asked bewilderingly.

"Cause Mama likes penguins for some obscure reason and my uncle's always force-feeding me different kinds of pasta," Blaise replied. "Now, there is the small chance I might be able to get away, but if I don't, well… I've always loved you Draco."

"Please tell me you mean that platonically."

"Of course I do. Probably. But if it turns out he's not just after me and he gets you too, remember that I will fight for you until my heart stops beating." Blaise laid one hand on Draco's shoulder and the other over his heart.

"One," Draco said slowly, pushing Blaise's hands away, "stop being so touchy feely, you know I don't like it. Two, stop hiding in the wardrobe Pansy, you're never going to get your photos, and three, what the  **hell**  brought this all on?"

"Well," Blaise sat back with a thoughtful expression, completely ignoring Pansy as she stalked out of the room muttering something about setting up more cameras, "You know how I had that minor panic attack when Professor Kirkland first started teaching?"

"I wouldn't call it minor as your eyes were completely blanked out, but yes," Draco nodded.

"Well, see, Mamma's got some family ties to organized crime, and Signore Vargas is always acting what she calls 'tsundere', so since he came over all the time when I was a kid I developed what I like to call my 'tsundere-meter'," Blaise explained. "Professor Kirkland seriously tripped it, but I've gotten used to it."

"I'm going to regret asking this, but what's a 'soon-dare-ay', and why are you all freaked out now?"

"One, it's 'tsundere'. And, well," Blaise licked his lips nervously then leaned in and continued in a whisper. "See, about fifteen minutes ago the levels of tsundere in the castle at least  **tripled**. The only person I know who has that much tsundere-ness about him is Signore Vargas, and I can only assume he's here for my head."

"What is he, some sort of immortal headhunter?" Draco scoffed. "Pansy, get out from under the bed! Honestly," he tutted as the girl retreated again, "I could handle her stalking me, but I don't understand what her recent obsession with you and me is. At least she doesn't think I've got the hots for Potter like Nott seems to think."

"Do you?" Blaise asked curiously. At the returning glare he flinched slightly. "Okay, got it, definitely no crush on Potter." He stood, brushing imaginary dust off his shirt front. "Well, I go to meet my doom. Take good care of Mr. Pasta please."

"Yeah, I'll take good care of him until you come back after missing curfew and you realize what a bunch of rubbish it was," Draco called out after him.

* * *

"So, how's everyone been since July?" Arthur asked in an effort to raise the awkward silence that had ensued. Well, awkward for everyone except Feliciano, who was happily humming away as if nothing had happened.

"Pretty good; Sve and I started planning a project," Tino said.

"Ooh! What is it? Is it for me?" Peter exclaimed.

"Maybe, but you didn't hear that from me." The Nordic put a finger to his lips in a 'shush' motion.

"We had a skirmish a month or so ago with some of Mr. England's magical terrorists," Liechtenstein informed them. "Bruder was busy so I took care of them. Did your law enforcement have any trouble with them?" she asked Arthur.

"No, no trouble at all," he replied. "Have they made any more advances on your or Switzerland's borders?"

"No, it seems they've learned their lesson," Lilli smiled angelically.

"Nothing much here; just working, making sure that idiot Spain doesn't kill himself from idiocy and making sure my sister doesn't do anything stupid concerning her brat," Lovino drawled as he frowned at the quilt the other three were working on while Feliciano and Peter were playing with cards.

"Oh!" Feliciano's head shot up. "Speaking of which, everybody, I have a big announcement!"

"No more watching  _Legally Blonde_  for you," Lovino scolded.

"Aww, but it's a good movie!" Veneziano pouted. "Anyway, I've got big news to tell you all!"

"If it's anything concerning that potato bastar –"

"I'm pregnant!"

* * *

 _It's all right Blaise; hopefully it won't be too painful, and if it is, well, women give birth all the time and they survive! Except you won't be surviving._  Geez, did he have a Negative Nancy for a subconscious or what? As he stopped to mentally smack himself upside the head, he suddenly got arctic-level chills down his back.  _Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to go back to the dungeons_ , Blaise thought as he backtracked the way he'd come.  _After all, it is the unwritten Slytherin code that discretion is the better part of valor or some shit like that, right?_

* * *

"I'm going to fucking murder that potato bastard!" Romano was practically foaming at the mouth.

"Ve, I told you not to fratello!"

"I don't care, I'm going to fucking murder him!" The southern half of Italy seethed as he kicked and squirmed against Finland, who had a surprisingly strong grip.

"Calm down Lovino!" Lilli soothed as she nudged Peter to the side.

"Are you sure? I mean, I don't think that's quite possible, even for us!" Arthur peered suspiciously at Feliciano.

"Ve, but it's the truth! Germany didn't believe me either, but we went to go visit China, cause he's had that sort of thing happen before, and he said it was true!" Veneziano insisted.

"Wait, when was China knocked up?" Lovino spared a moment of aggression for asking.

"It did not involve me, thank you, Hong Kong actually  **did**  pop up out of nowhere," England retorted to the unasked question.

"I'm still going to kill that potato bastard! He soiled my brother's innocence!"

"Fratello, you do know me and Ludwig have been having sex since the '30s?"

"Gack, don't say it! The fucking bastard, I'm going to rip off his nonexistent moustache and feed it to him once I've got him strung up!"

"Don't you dare touch Germany!"

"I'll do whatever the fuck I like!"

"Whether you try to hurt Ludwig or not, stop fighting!" Tino shouted to be heard over the Italians. "And I'd also thank you to stop swearing in front of Peter!" The temperature of the room went down a couple notches as Tino glared at the other occupants of the room minus Peter.

"Um, there's someone at the door," Lilli observed as the sound of knocking grew louder.

"Shit," Arthur muttered, not even bothering with an apology to Tino as he stalked to the portrait doorway. "Yes?" he asked.

"Good afternoon Arthur," Dumbledore greeted jovially. Arthur almost groaned as he saw McGonagall was with him.

"I'm sorry if there was too much noise or something," he said wearily. "I was just about to make Lovino and Feliciano leave anyway!" He called the last bit over his shoulder to where the others were still standing around, though Lilli was poking at Feliciano's stomach.

"It certainly doesn't seem like it," she was saying.

"Well, most pregnancies don't start showing until later on, especially if it's your first one," Veneziano replied cheerfully. "I'm really looking forward to having a little one around the house; maybe Ludwig will loosen up a bit at meetings then."

"If anything he'll probably get more stressed," Lilli chuckled.

"I'm still going to kill the potato bastard," Romano growled as he shrugged Tino off.

"Do that and I'll be forced to go 1923 on your ass fratello," Veneziano said in a sing-song tone that gave everyone the chills.

"…Fine," Romano muttered after a tense moment. "Anything to get away from these wizard…" He paused for a moment before he wrinkled his nose in Albus and Minerva's direction. "… **nerds**."

* * *

Blaise gave an audible sigh of relief as he felt the almost unbearable amount of tsundere leave the castle.

"What did I tell you?" Draco smirked, an amused quirk to his mouth.

"Shut up," Blaise muttered, a pout marring his expression. "And gimme back Mr. Pasta."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, the whole stich'n'bitch spawned one day when I was writing down random headcanons in one of my notebooks, and I wrote this: "Switzerland spent a whole week putting up an elaborate security system on Liech's house when she finally moved out of his place," followed by, "The security system was dismantled in one night when she invited England, Italy (both), Finland and Poland over for their bimonthly sitch'n'bitch," followed by, "The PFIILE stitch'n'bitch is most responsible for the world's efforts against global warming, as well as world peace and hunger – they get more done than G8 meetings normally do."
> 
> And there you have it. Just to clarify, the whole mpreg scenario isn't random, it was in my mind from the beginning of the story, and apart from Christmas, Valentine's Day and the final battle, this is the chapter I most anticipated writing. There's also reasons why only Sicily, Veneziano and China are the only nations to have been recorded getting pregnant.
> 
> Also, yay for Slytherin being yaoi fangirls! ^^ Anyone who can tell me what Blaise was getting his "fighting for you" quote, you will get cookies! (I kinda doubt anyone here's watched the Youtube show it's from though)
> 
> Ha, random Doctor interlude x3 Don't ask what he and Rory were moving the couch for, cause I don't know B|
> 
> I hope no one hates me forever now, or will give up this story. It might seem like a petty fear to you, but I know a lot of people like to put mpreg in stories just cause it's "the cool thing" to do, or just for kicks. I'm not one of those people (hopefully ^^;).


	22. Unwilling Teacher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy this filler chapter!
> 
> Aaaand, no language key this chappie. Seriously, I think it's gone AWOL...

By the time December had rolled around the students were a bit less like frightened rabbits around Arthur, though the rumour mill hadn't died down any, and apparently the leading odds were that he was some sort of vampire or other undead creature. Werewolf would've been the foremost choice based on his violent mood swings, but though he sometimes looked haggard like Lupin had, Kirkland was present, looking none the worse for wear, on days of the full moon.

Yet there was one student who was now driving Arthur up the wall where he hadn't before.

"Potter, this is the sixth time you've asked me, and my answer is still going to be the same," Arthur sighed wearily as he erased the board of the notes he'd written for the previous class. "Talk to Albus about getting some extra training, or hell, even Professor Flitwick!"

"But I  **have**  gone to Professor Dumbledore," Harry protested. "He said that going to you was actually a good idea, since you've had a lot of experience with teaching, and even taken on an apprentice or two in the past."

 _Taking care of colonies is nothing like teaching children,_  Arthur fumed silently. _And I'd hardly call_ ** _any_** _of them apprentices._  "Albus has no idea what he's talking about," he said aloud, waving off the Boy-Who-Lived's argument.

"I've seen you fight -"

"Yes,  **several**  people have seen me fight, and in case you didn't hear already, I've been reprimanded for 'scarring the minds of the easily impressionable students'," he mocked in a nasally tone. "I highly doubt the Half-Wits in Charge would appreciate me  **teaching** someone, much less their Golden Boy."

"It's not like you'd have to shout it in the Great Hall for everyone to hear," Harry insisted. "I mean, even just a few tips for dueling, or maybe there's some sort of ancient spell in an old book somewhere you know of that automatically kills dark lords, or -" A thought, a line said in passing occurred to him. "Professor Dumbledore said that you knew a lot of different types of magic, even mind-magics - maybe you could teach me Occlumency or something -"

"All right, first off, there is no book full of convenient spells to one off dark lords - believe me, I'd know if there was; I'd probably have written the damn thing. Secondly, there is no such thing as 'a couple tips for dueling' and just where do you get off asking for me to teach you Occlumency!" Arthur sputtered, his composure slipping. "For one thing, that is a skill that is only to be taught by someone who has great skill and practice in it, as well as a Ministry license -"

"I highly doubt Snape has a license from the Ministry," Harry muttered.

"What does he have to do with this?" England asked, frowning.

"It's complicated," Harry mumbled as he scratched the back of his head, unsure as to how much he should divulge to the History professor. True he'd cut down a whole group of Death Eaters all on his own, but it was possible that he could still be a spy of some sort. "But even if you can't teach me Occlumency or give me duelling tips, then isn't there something else you  **could**  do?"

"Mind magicks aside, it's not that simple," Arthur sighed as he rubbed at his temples. "It isn't as if I can just give you a few Latin words and send you off on your merry way." He sat down on the edge of his desk. "Clarify something for me Potter. At any point during my battle, did you hear me cast a spell?"

Frowning, Harry realized that the older man  **hadn't**  said anything, save for quoting Shakespeare, oddly enough.

"From what I've been hearing from Severus's rants, you've got a tenuous grasp of silent spellcasting at best, and that wouldn't even be the first problem you'd have to overcome," Arthur explained.

"Well, then what would be the first problem?" the boy pressed. "Tell me and I'll start working on it!"

Arthur glared in reply. "You know, it's rather rude to just demand things from people - especially adults who are supposed to be your superiors. I say 'supposed to be' because I myself know several very old people who act like children on the best of days. And it's not as if you can just will something to work - the main problem with me teaching you is that you are too narrow-minded."

"Narrow-minded?" Harry repeated incredulously. "People tell me all the time that the way I think isn't  **inside**  the box enough!"

"Magick itself is not a thing to approached the way they teach it inside schools, especially if you're serious about pulling off as unlikely an event as defeating even a piddling dark lord," the blond retorted.

"Piddling? He's practically a magical Hitler!" Harry protested.

England chuckled nastily. "Hardly; the only thing that links them is their prejudiced views, awful childhoods and their penchant for violence being the answer to everything." He paused for a moment before he added thoughtfully, "Though sometimes violence can be the only answer, at least when you're dealing with certain people who just will not take no for an answer." His fingers twitched as though they were clutching something in their grasp, and Harry just gave Kirkland a strange look.

"Will you teach me or not?" the boy asked after a moment, Avada Kedavra green meeting brilliant jade.

"I'll think about it," Arthur replied quietly, his expression shuttered, before he shooed the boy out of his classroom.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was focusing on the mysteries of life, such as where on Earth his emergency pouch of lemon drops had been stashed, when he felt a familiar pulse of magic overpower his guard gargoyles and proceed up the stairs.

"Albus," England all but growled as he saw the aged wizard sitting calmly at his desk. "Just what kind of tales have you been feeding Potter?"

"I would offer you a lemon drop, but I seem to have run out," Albus mused morosely. "Would you care for a Chocolate Frog instead?"

"Thank you," Arthur accepted. Chocolate was never something to be turned down, even if one was in a near apoplectic rage. "Now see here," he bristled after he'd eaten the chocolate, "what on Earth have you been telling Potter? He came to me asking me to teach him Occlumency Albus - Occlumency! By all the stars in the heavens, what  **possessed**  you?"

"Young Harry is in a delicate stage of his life right now," Dumbledore sighed. "My original plan of this year had been to school him in the past of Tom Riddle, so that he might help me hunt for Tom's Horcruxes."

"But you came to me instead," Arthur said.

"Yes, after your visit I reviewed events and decided a different approach to this year was to be had."

"Still, why me?" England insisted. "Why couldn't  **you**  teach him?"

"Last year I had Severus start giving Harry lessons in Occlumency," he started.

"Oh for... honestly, even  **I've**  heard of the rivalry he shared with the boy's father!" Arthur exclaimed.

"There is no way to learn Occlumency quickly except through brutal means," Albus sighed, suddenly looking his age. "I felt Severus would fit the bill, as it were."

"So you told him to talk to me why?"

"Even the best of Occlumens can have their defenses penetrated while they are distracted," Albus smiled wryly. "I have far too much in my mind that no one should ever see."

Arthur sighed, as he could sympathize with that all too well. "You could have just told me and I'd've approached the boy on my own."

"Harry has not had the best track records with teachers; it was imperative he come to you on his own."

"Great, so I'll have both him  **and**  Peter to teach," England grumbled. "Absolutely fantastic."

"Oh, is that what he was doing in your quarters when your friends dropped by?" Albus chuckled.

"Well, I wouldn't call them my friends per say," England muttered petulantly. "Lilli and Tino acquaintances, perhaps."

* * *

_Dear Mamma,_

_You know how you warned me about how life was short and it wouldn't be that strange for me to make a will when I'm not even out of school yet?_

_Could you have at least warned me Signore Vargas was going to be visiting school (and_ **_not_ ** _to fill my boots with cement) so I wouldn't have made such a fool of myself in front of Dray? He thinks I'm even crazier than before now! At least he hasn't asked me any embarrassing questions about Mr. Pasta..._

_Speaking of which, how's Uncle Feli doing? I haven't heard from him in a while, and he **is** the one who gave me Mr. Pasta. Did you tell him that I actually tried the pasta this year and it's not that bad? Really, I'm not sure where he's coming from; not all English food is that bad. Then again, I am just a student, right?_

_Anyway, I'm enclosing a list of the books that I've seen Dray going through while he's researching. I recognized a couple of them from when we were cleaning out the basement, but aside from that, no dice. I'm seriously worried about him - not just because he's doing all this research for the Dark Lord (seriously, has he appointed Dray as his secretary or something?), but he's really neglecting his sleep, and I can only help him cram for exams so long. Any chance you could send me back some of your special Pepper-up coffee mixes? Or if you can bear to part with the secret recipe so I can make them myself, that'd be great too._

_Professor Slughorn is as irritating as you said he'd be; he's been badgering me to come to his Christmas party. I may attend, if only to get the old geezer to shut up. If all else fails, I've got that ultra-strength can of Mace that Uncle Feli gave me last Christmas. Out of curiosity, is it true that Signore Vargas gave it to him and I just got the short end of the stick? I'd ask Uncle Feli myself, but he's been kind of irritable in his letters lately; it's almost like he's PMSing or something, I swear!_

_Well, here's hoping this reaches you before the holidays or my possible untimely demise at the hands of our resident Potions professor from sheer boredom._

_Love, Blaise._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter wasn't too bad, considering I finished it up after a night of no sleep -^-;;; Don't worry though, the action's coming soon! Christmas time is gonna be so fun~ 
> 
> Oh, and since last time I posted I just kinda dropped the whole mpreg bomb on y'all outta nowhere without an explanation (which I'm quite thankful so many of you are sticking with the story even if you don't like it, thank you!), here is the long-coming explanation/headcanon/rant.
> 
> Usually when people have mpreg happen in Hetalia stories it's cause they're countries, etc., and it's part of the whole 'growth of a nation' thing. But that leaves a lot of plot holes because, for one, in the webcomic itself HimaPapa just has the nations being found, like literally, in the middle of nowhere (i.e. America and Japan). Plus, if we've got all this mpreg going on, well then what about the female nations, hmm?
> 
> Anyway, my point is that it's kind of my personal headcanon that when/if nations do give birth, they don't give birth to countries, they give birth to humans that are either a.) normal humans, b.) wizards/witches or some other sort of supernatural beings, or c.) sort of like demi-gods in that they are similar to the micronations in some aspects (sensitive to economy, etc. or super strength like Sealand), but can be killed like regular humans (based off a headcanon I found that stated that if nations did have kids they stopped aging around 12 or 13).
> 
> Also, I believe that for a nation to even give birth in the first place, they have to be a.) female or b.) recipient of a LOT of power, whether that be magically or otherwise. Which brings us to why only 2/3 of the Italies and China have ever had kids. The only thing they have in common is Rome (cause you know Rome would've mistaken China for a girl and molested him, and even after finding out he was a guy, still molested him x3). Rome was the greatest empire to have ever lived (besides Egypt and Atlantis, but like I said, confirmed pregnancies and empires), and that's gotta hold a lot of power, right? So in theory, Greece could possibly get pregnant, but that's never going to happen, because any kids he and Japan had would be half-cat or something. I dunno, but they'd be messed up, so that's not happening (in THIS fic ;3).
> 
> So hopefully at least a little of that made sense ^^; This story is cracky in some aspects, but hopefully not all, and Veneziano being pregnant does play into the plot somewhat -_-;;


	23. The Outcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the votes SG-chan received about the snowball fight were for it to take place with resolvable UST and many innuendos ;3 So after Christmas it is! Man, the plot's really gonna start to pick up then...
> 
> The anonymous review replies and the obligatory language key are out being bunnies somewhere. Or something. Yeah.

Harry moped, though he liked to say that he was just expressing his feelings in an annoying and melancholy manner. Hermione and Neville called it moping, Ron and Ginny called it sulking, and Luna just smiled serenely and tweaked Harry's nose affectionately.

"At least he heard you out," Neville tried to console the Boy-Who-Was-Driving-Everyone-Crazy-With-His-Depressing-Mood.

"And no one else will even pretend to listen to me," Harry grumbled. "I mean, you'd think they'd  **want**  me to be well prepared to defeat Voldemort!"

"If nothing else, you can just keep bothering him until he breaks down," Neville suggested in the hope that Harry would just do that and stop bothering him so he could do his homework already.

"There is that," Harry mused. "I'm good at being annoying, at least according to Hermione, Snape, and all my primary school teachers." He was about to sink back into a meditative fugue when he was brought out of it quite abruptly. "Peter!"

The first year turned from his friends as they entered the common room, saw who was calling him, then promptly went back out again.

"Oh come on!" Harry complained as he ran after the micronation. "Peter!" With his longer stride he easily caught up a little ways down the hall. "Why'd you run?"

"Jerk Arthur said that you'd probably pester me about him teaching you," Peter replied.

"Well, at least I know I'm being annoying enough," Harry mused. "I thought you'd stopped calling him a jerk though."

"Old habits die hard," Peter shrugged. " **Are**  you going to pester me? I'd appreciate if you'd hurry if you are, because I was going to play some Pokémon with Jared."

"Pokémon?" Harry asked, bemused. "I thought that was an electronic game."

"Oh, it is, but Kiku sends me the latest trading cards when they come out, and I usually buy a few booster packs when they come out in stores either here or up north, so I've got enough probably for at least five proper decks." The micronation gave him a curious look. "Not many people here have heard about Pokémon, or keep up with it if they have."

"Ah, my cousin was really into it before his parents made him throw it out; they didn't like the idea of 'magical creatures' corrupting him." Peter laughed at the physically older boy's use of air quotes. "I'll go bother your brother later," Harry grinned. "But maybe you could put in a good word for me sometime?"

Peter adopted a thoughtful pose. "Sure;  **if**  you play with us. Jared's dad's non-magical so he knows the rules a bit, but Mark's just interested in finding out if they actually do live in China - I keep telling him that they don't, but he's got an attention span worse than Alfred's."

"Who's Alfred?" Harry wondered.

"Never mind," Peter shook his head.

"Harry!" Ginny called as the two boys reentered the common room.

"Yeah?" he asked, and while he was erstwhile distracted, Peter began to converse quietly with his friends.

"I've come to collect," the redhead informed him smugly.

Harry blinked. "Huh?"

"The bet?" Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow. "I have photographic evidence just in."

"What? Lemme see that." Harry quickly snatched away what he now knew to be photos from Ginny's hand. He frowned at the images of Ron and Hermione sharing a kiss in one photo and holding hands as they walked down the corridor in the other. "You've seriously been having Colin stalking them?"

Ginny shrugged. "He's an aspiring photographer and I promised him good payment; what better way to hone his skills?"

"I'm still not convinced," Harry denied stubbornly.

Ginny glared at him in a deadpan manner before she suddenly brightened. "Maybe you'll believe me if it comes straight from the source," she grinned, turning him around so he could see as the couple of interest entered, holding hands.

Harry groaned, catching Ron and Hermoine by surprise. "You couldn't have waited until  **after**  Christmas?"

"Harry, I don't care if you  **do** like Hermoine, I - wait, what are you talking about Christmas?" Ron started his protective rant nervously but stopped before it could get into full swing.

"He means that I get a favor from him, brother dearest," Ginny purred, swinging an arm around Harry's shoulder.

The cogs in Ron's mind could be seen slowly moving and a scandalized expression crossed his face. "Ginny, you've already got a boyfr - ow!" He rubbed at his head where Hermoine had slapped him. "Hell was  **that**  for?"

"You were honestly just about to say that to your  **sister**?" Hermoine demanded with a glare.

"Sorry Gin," Ron muttered sheepishly.

"Yeah yeah, we all know you've got terminal foot-in-mouthitis," Ginny waved a hand in dismissal. "Now, you two can go make out while I seal the terms of our bet with darling Harry-kins here." She winked coyly before grabbing Harry and pulling him over near where Neville was sitting and cast a privacy charm.

Neville himself ignored that one of his friends was manhandling another of his friends while two more of their group were looking on in stunned and awkward silence. "So you two are finally not wading in denial anymore?" he asked in an attempt to lighten the mood. Ron sputtered in reply while Hermione blushed and tried not to laugh at the terrible pun.

Meanwhile, Harry was very much confused - well, more than was completely normal for him.

"You want me to ask Luna to Slughorn's party?"

Ginny sighed aggravatedly. "Do you need me to repeat it a  **third**  time?"

"Nope," Harry shook his head quickly, not wanting anything to fly out of his nose, well, ever. "I heard you. But why Luna?"

 _Because you're the only guy she trusts, she's had the most enormous crush on you for forever and I'm pretty damn sure you would actually make a good couple!_  Ginny wanted to scream. Instead, she placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and glared at him. "Because she needs to get out and live, and if you hurt her or make her decide once again that boys are the inferior of the species and she should rekindle her plans for an all-women nudist colony/harem, I will hurt you. Badly. I will not kill you, but you will wish I had by the time I'm done."

"D-does hurting include stepped-on toes while dancing?" the boy stuttered. "Cause you know, I'm really not good at that. At all. Like, I would definitely not be known as 'The-Boy-Who-Danced'."

"I don't think Luna would really care if you stepped on her toes once or twice," Ginny mused. "But don't make a habit out of it!" she warned him. "Now, this time of day I'm pretty sure that she's either out by the lake or in the Ravenclaw common room." At Harry's slightly blank stare, her scowl deepened. "What are you waiting for? Go!"

"Sorry Peter, I'll play with you guys later!" Harry hurriedly offered an explanation as he dashed out of the room.

The micronation didn't even seem to be fazed by the other boy ditching them. "Yeah, just don't get your fingers broken by any crazy ladies!"

"Is that one of those stories you're never really going to elaborate on?" Jared asked knowingly.

Peter thought a moment. "Maybe. It's a justifiable precaution, it honestly is."

* * *

Blaise wandered the halls aimlessly, seeing as Draco was having a pissy fit right now and didn't want the Italian to be looking over his shoulder at all the super secret dark texts he was reading. Blaise honestly wasn't sure whether it was a good or a bad thing that his mamma had been able to identify pretty much all of those books. Maybe a bit of both, but it certainly lead to questions like how she knew in the first place.

 _Perhaps during the holidays,_  Blaise thought to himself. Of course that would mean Uncle Feli would be around, and  **that**  would mean that Signore Vargas would also be there... He suppressed a shudder, still not completely recovered from the overwhelming levels of tsundere that had permeated the castle a couple weeks earlier. It was a shame that he was the only one who seemed to be able to sense it; he could probably make a killing if he could bottle the stuff. Maybe be even more effective than dementors...

His train of thought was abruptly cut off when he turned the corner and ran into someone. "Oh, sorry, I didn't see you-"

"No, it's my fau-" Harry stopped when he saw who he'd run into. "Oh. Hello Zabini."

"Hello yourself Potter," Blaise nodded. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"None of your business," Harry scowled before he continued on his trek towards the lake. Just because the other didn't torment him as much as the other Slytherins did - and come to think of it, Malfoy was being a bit quiet lately, wasn't he? - didn't mean he was going to be all buddy-buddy with him.

"Thank you so much for apologizing, Potter; ever so kind of you to be a complete dick, Potter," Blaise mocked in a nasally tone. Honestly, Gryffindors!

Harry's heart leaped a bit in his chest as he spotted a light blonde head bobbing along the lakeside. He confirmed that it was indeed Luna when he got closer and noticed that she was wearing all blue clothing that seemed to match the hues of the water.

"Hello Harry," she greeted him as he came up to her.

"Hey," he replied, suddenly feeling extremely awkward. "Um, so, uh, Luna, I was, uh, wondering if maybe you'd, um, that is to say, er, well, um, I'm not really the best at this sort of thing, but-"

"Harry, is there something you'd like to ask me?" Luna wondered, a smile playing at the edges of her mouth at the boy's stuttering.

"Yes, yes there is, but, um, well, Merlin this is more difficult than I thought it'd be!" Harry groaned before he straightened his back and said in a rush (and rather loudly), "Luna, would you be my date to Slughorn's party?"

For a moment the teens just stood there in silence, and Harry was worried that perhaps this was a completely terrible idea before he was being almost suffocated by Luna.

"Yes, I'd love to!" the Ravenclaw beamed. "Although you're going to have to let me choose your outfit, since otherwise you might accidentally wear something that'll attract the Nargles to you; they're bound to be present at a party, especially around the winter holidays."

"Um, sure, so long as it isn't anything really girly," Harry smiled nervously as he remembered Luna's less-than-common-sense when it came to fashion. "Also, I think you might be crushing one of my ribs."

* * *

Kiku l-l-l- held great affection for Heracles, he really did, but sometimes it astounded him how the other was supposed to be around his own age when he acted so juvenile and with such lack of tact... Then again, he did have China for an older brother, and wasn't  **that**  a whole other can of worms? As such, Kiku was only slightly pleasantly surprised and extremely irritated when he woke in the middle of the night to a firecall from Heracles.

And there was something else that bothered him; in the time since he and Arthur-san had ended their alliance to the present, how far had his magical world progressed? Really, and some people said  **he**  was stuck in the past...

Pushing his bitching to England to the back of his mind, Kiku mumbled loudly enough to be heard, "I'm coming Greece-san, just give me a moment."

From the floor of his quarters in Hogwarts, Greece winced. Ooh, Kiku was addressing him by his country name. That didn't bode well, not at all. Still, he tried to keep a positive outlook on the situation. "Hey, sorry I woke you," he apologized as Kiku settled by the fire in a manner that wouldn't have looked too out of a modeling shoot, his legs off the the side, his robe hastily thrown on so that it was coming off his left shoulder a bit, pale porcelain skin dazzling in the smoky moonlight streaming through the window...

 _No!_  Heracles chided his libido.  _Not after the last time!_  Last time... He unconsciously shivered, and not the good kind of shiver either. In his opinion, Kiku's scoldings should be classified as weapons of mass destruction. 

"It's not like you haven't done it before," Kiku said, his expression tired before it was schooled into one of slight annoyance. "You are not calling for what France-san informs me is a 'booty call' are you?"

"No," Heracles shook his head rapidly. "Actually, I was just wondering... what order you'd like me... to put the photos in. You weren't really specific... when you asked me... to take the pictures before."

"Oh, by chronological order would be best," Kiku replied. "Is that all?"

"Yeah," Heracles mumbled, feeling guilty. "Sorry I woke you up just for that."

"It's all right; I need to finish up some paperwork anyways," Kiku murmured as he tried not to yawn. "Good night then Heracles."

"Good night Kiku," the Grecian replied, allowing himself one last gaze at the beautiful figure before him before he disappeared with a parting, "Love you."

Kiku sat there for a moment, only the dim moonlight allowing the slight blush on his face to be seen, his own reply of love never passing his lips.


	24. Frying Pan Induced Amnesia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so, so _very_ sorry that you guys have had to wait this long, but I've been extremely busy. First finals, then graduation, then my brother's wedding, and then moving out from my mom's and trying to find a job... Yeah, I've been extremely busy. This would've taken a lot longer, but lightwolfheart said on Thursday/Friday (it was really late/early) that she was going to camp for a couple days, so SG-chan was like, "I'm gonna update before you get back so you have something nice to come back to!" So yeah, go thank her for getting me off my ass and actually going along with one of my self-imposed deadlines x3 Enjoy the update~ ^_^
> 
> Language key: 
> 
> Oh hey, finally some Parseltongue!: "*insert text*"

**Chapter 24: Frying Pan Induced Amnesia**

"Goddamit Potter!" Arthur yelped as the potted plant he kept on his desk shattered against the wall. "Even Peter can manage simple mental exercises without blowing things up!"

"I'm not sure whether I should take that as a compliment or not," Sealand piped up from where he was lounging on the floor.

"Yeah, well you didn't say that you'd be trying to get inside my mind while I was doing it!" Harry retorted angrily, though he felt a sort of grim satisfaction that he'd managed a silent spell strong enough to garner that kind of result, even if it had resulted in destruction of a teacher's property.

"I was just checking exactly what the fruits of Severus's labor were," Arthur drawled as he rolled his eyes. "Like I said before Potter, I've better things to do than spy on you."

"Like pine after – "

"Shut up if you don't want me to confiscate those hentai mags I know Kiku gives you," England snapped.

"You wouldn't!" The resemblance between the two was obvious as both their eyebrows furrowed in anger at each other.

"Just try me," Arthur growled, jade green eyes narrowing. "Or maybe I should tell Tino and Berwald?"

"Daddy Sve says that it's healthy for me to have outlets like a normal kid," Peter countered loftily, his chin held high. Arthur merely glared in reply.

"Um, excuse me, Professor? Peter?" Harry inquired, hoping to gain their attention. As amusing as their bickering was, he was supposed to be learning something here. He wasn't quite sure what yet as all Kirkland had tried to do was get inside his head. At least he wasn't being a dick about it like Snape had been.

"Yes, yes, back to the beginning," Arthur muttered. "Right Potter; if you're to learn any form of magic from me you first have to put your mind in order, but not in a way that will limit you."

"Limit me?"

"Yes, limit; as in not able to reach your full potential," Arthur lectured. "Part of the problem these days is that as children you're taught that magic is to be used a certain way, can only be used that way, and that there are dire consequences if you stray outside the thin red line." He shot a dirty look at Peter when he snickered after the mention of "the thin red line". The first-year didn't even bother to try looking innocent, causing Arthur to sigh wearily before he continued. "Which, honestly, is complete and utter bollocks, since magic is quite flexible and, really, the reason why magic-users of the past were so much more "powerful" than the average John or Sally is because they didn't limit themselves. Well, that and inbreeding."

"Definitely inbreeding," Peter nodded sagely. He squeaked at Arthur's glare.

"I'm going to wash your mouth out with lye soap if you don't shut up and let me bloody talk!" the elder Kirkland growled. "Right," he sighed after Peter looked properly cowed, "so, the best course of doing this would be to give you some form of amnesia, but that could take too long to work through and you might be killed in the process, so unfortunately we can't do that."

"Unfortunately," Harry repeated, trying to simultaneously wrap his head around and ignore the fact that the professor had actually been considering making him lose his memory.

"Yes, so first we're going to focus on a form of meditation that I like to call - oh look over there, a Thestral!"

"What?" Harry wondered, bewildered. He looked over in the direction that Kirkland was pointing and then felt a large amount of pain blossom in his head. "Mother **fu** -" He cut off as the pain became too much and he fell unconscious.

"Um," Peter started as he stared with wide eyes at the prone Gryffindor. "What the hell was that?"

"It's like taking shots," Arthur nodded as he hefted the cast-iron frying pan over his shoulder. "You say that you're going to do it on the count of three, but instead you give it to them on one or two, that way they don't expect the pain and they don't tense up!"

"I know  **that**. What I'm wondering is why you felt the need to clobber him with a pan in the first place!"

"Well I couldn't give him amnesia; that would take too long to fix and while it would have the added bonus of him unlearning all those unnecessary limitations, he could die in the interim," England explained as he set the pan down and then dragged Harry over to the chair. "Now go sit in the corner and meditate. Try to feel my presence or Greece's, and don't bother me while I do this or I could end up wiping his brain and leaving him a vegetable."

"Yes sir," Peter squeaked as he quickly relocated to the corner furthest from his brother and unconscious classmate.

"Now, I'm fairly certain I didn't hit him hard enough to cause any long-lasting damage, so this should be fairly easy..."

Strangely enough, the barely audibly mutterings didn't make Sealand feel any better.

* * *

The first thing that alerted Harry to the fact that there was something wrong was the fact that he felt like he was floating, but when he looked down, his feet were flat on the ground. Also, the ground itself was wood and not stone. He hissed at the flare of pain on the side of his head whenever he moved it.

"I'm going to kill someone if I'm not already dead," the Gryffindor muttered to himself. He looked around what seemed to be a small room that, as he looked out the window, was part of an equally small house.

"Are you sure you're-"

"It's just a flesh wound Albus; I've had much worse."

Startled to hear the voices of two of, if not the most powerful, the barmiest men he knew, Harry poked his head around the corner to see Professors Dumbledore and Kirkland standing near what seemed to be a door and -

"That's not a flesh wound," Harry said aloud to himself rather stupidly as he saw the great gaping gash that had gouged itself across Kirkland's chest, the blood only slightly visible against the black sweatshirt because of the amount of blood. As he realized his mistake, the boy's shoulders tensed up as he expected to be berated for being there, but neither of the men acknowledged his presence.

He continued to watch as the blond man pressed a hand to his chest. There was a faint glow around his hand and after a moment he pulled away. It still looked pretty bad, but Harry could tell that it wasn't gushing blood anymore. And the professor had had  **worse**? Yikes, he had some questions for when he woke up. If he woke up.

Harry's morbid musings were interrupted by Dumbledore's cut off protests as Kirkland knelt down in the middle of the room and started hissing.

"*Hey, open up,*" the blond ordered, his brows furrowed as he glared at the floorboards. "*I didn't get woken up at 7:30 in the morning to come here and just stare at the floor!*" Harry heard a vague hissing sound that sounded like words, but he was too far away to make out what was being said. It seemed to make Kirkland angrier though.

"*Thomas Marvolo Riddle will be the least of your problems once I'm through with you; no matter what tricks he had up his sleeve when he made this, I can break down every one tenfold in less time than it would take the most talented cursebreaker from Gringotts.*" Kirkland's expression was edging towards apoplectic now as he shouted as well as he could while hissing, "*Well Salazar Slytherin wouldn't have wanted his fucking family ring made into a bloody Horcrux! Now if you won't let me in I'll just have to break you down myself!"

There was a high-pitched screeching noise that made both Dumbledore and Harry cover their ears as the History professor pried up one of the floorboards. The fabric covering his arms was rent repeatedly for a moment before a pale green glow surrounded Kirkland, making for an impressive light display as several dismal colored spells dissipated against the energy that enveloped him, keeping him safe from harm.

Kirkland pulled out a box and the screeching increased in volume as he opened the box, took out a ring, and tutted. "Really now, resorting to those sorts of curses are we?" There was an intense flash of light that made Harry stagger back, and spots danced across his vision as he blinked rapidly to regain his sight.

It looked as though Dumbledore hadn't been unaffected either, though he was blinking far less than Harry. Kirkland smirked, placed the ring back in the box, the floorboard in its original place, and walked over to the headmaster.

"Well, that was a bit trickier than I expected; didn't think he'd have used Parsel wards, but it's all good now." Kirkland handed the box to Dumbledore, who took it with a slightly awed expression. "I know you need this more than me."

"Thank you Arthur," Dumbledore said as he gave the younger man a hug. "I have no doubt that it would have taken much longer to regain this had I not asked you to accompany me."

"So long as you don't bother me this early in the morning again," the blond issued his ultimatum sternly. Dumbledore laughed cheerily as they exited the small house.

"Horcrux?" Harry wondered aloud as his vision suddenly tunneled and everything went black.

* * *

"...think he's coming around. Yes, he is!" Bright green eyes were the first thing Harry saw as he awoke. "Much quicker this way than inducing any sort of amnesia. How are you feeling?"

"Fuck, my head!" Harry swore, holding his hand to the side of his head. "What the hell did you hit me with?"

"Good, your mental faculties seem to be the same as before," Kirkland nodded, his expression tinged with pride. "And it was a frying pan from a friend; she specializes in combat with them."

"I'm going to tell Daddy and Papa on you!" Peter called petulantly from a corner of the classroom. "You're not supposed to do anything that will potentially scar me for life!"

"You'll be fine," Arthur waved off his brother's concerns. "Now Potter, we can begin your real training!" The enthusiastic grin did not bode well for Harry's continuing mental health, and in light of the terror his teacher's expression was evoking, all thoughts of Horcruxes, Parseltongue, and wounds that were certainly not flesh wounds fled his mind.

* * *

 

"Stefan! Stefan, where are you?"

Bulgaria's expression was set in a deep scowl as he walked hurriedly down the hall, trying his best to look dignified even though all he wanted to do was strangle the other right now. Not that it would really work, but it was the thought that counted. Plus, it probably wouldn't do anything positive for either of their images if any non-nations saw him strangling that irresponsible, infuriating -

Any thoughts of murder were temporarily chased away as he felt his arm being encased in a vise-like grip and he was pulled into a small cranny that he had never really noticed before. "What-"

"Shh!" Romania hissed, cutting him off by clapping a hand over his mouth. "They'll hear you!"

Kiril rolled his eyes. After a moment he pried Stefan's hand away and asked quietly, "Who are 'they'? And why have you been avoiding me?"

"I haven't been avoiding you," Stefan refuted, his amber eyes narrowed. "I've been avoiding everyone  **else** ; my boss keeps trying to lock me up and it's got something to do with that guy who's been bothering England lately."

"How do you know?" Bulgaria asked, brow furrowing as he mulled over the information given him.

"Aside from the fact that a guy who looked like a combination of a chemo and plastic surgery patient gone wrong showed up with some guys wearing skull masks?" Romania snarked. "Lucky for me bats have far superior hearing and they like me."

"Yeah, luckily," Kiril agreed. "I guess that's why your boss called me over to find you, saying it was an "emergency". What are we gonna do?"

"Do you remember my friend Eldred Worple?" Stefan grinned, his fangs glinting in the minimal light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it wasn't already clear, Kiril is my fanon name for Bulgaria, while Stefan is for Romania.
> 
> Also, mwa ha ha. Now Harry has questions that must be answered, and we've set up some plot~
> 
> Points if you can guess where I got the amnesia-reference from x3
> 
> Next chapter will be the Christmas party! 8D We'll see who will attend; Romania, Bulgaria, or both ;3 And it'll be up within two weeks, I promise.
> 
> Also, if you're interested in keeping up with my uninteresting life, my tumblr is neenmedal, although after Halloween I'm going to change it back to sgchan. Just letting y'all know.
> 
> Don't forget to review! ^^


	25. At Last, the Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very bad at keeping deadlines, especially self-imposed ones. I apologize.

When Harry dragged himself into the Gryffindor common room later that night, he wasn't surprised to see Ron and Hermione sitting on the couch waiting for him. He  **was** surprised they weren't snogging or anything, but he supposed that that was actually a good thing; his brain was scarred enough.

"Where on earth have you been?" Hermione demanded as Ron commented, "You don't look too good."

"Lessons," Harry groaned. "Gee, ya think? My head feels like it was hit by the Knight Bus."

"Is it as bad as it was with Professor Snape?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"Eh," Harry shrugged as he flopped down on the couch next to his friends. "Pain's up there, but that's probably from hitting me with a frying pan."

"He  **what**?" Ron blurted while Hermione's mouth dropped in shock.

"At least I'm learning something," Harry continued, not acknowledging his friends' outrage.

"Unless you're learning how to make a Philospher's Stone or something, I don't see how getting hit over the head is that good a pay off," Hermione said, worried for her friend's physical and mental health.

"Snape spent a good portion of last year basically mind raping me and I got zilch out of that," Harry retorted. "I think a bump on the head is a small price to pay for Professor Kirkland actually giving me pointers on how to possibly survive Voldemort, because God knows no one else is."

"You've got a point there," Ron agreed.

"Yes, yes I do," Harry nodded. "And now I'm going to crawl upstairs, go to bed, and sleep for the next 12 hours or so."

"Oh, just don't lay on the package!" Ron called after him.

"Luna came by with what she said were your clothes for Professor Slughorn's party tomorrow," Hermione added at Harry's confused expression. "We put it on your bed."

"Thanks," Harry said before turning and continuing up to the dorm and sweet blissful unconsciousness that was not caused by a frying pan.

* * *

England yawned a little and stretched his arms above his head as he made his way to his quarters. Recalibrating Potter's head had taken more out of him than he'd expected. Then again, the lad  **was**  fairly powerful, though it had been rather difficult trying to get him to understand basic theory. He stopped just outside his quarters, frowning at the portrait entrance. There was something off about it, something he just couldn't put his finger on...

"SURPRISE!"

A sudden weight on his back made him yelp and he staggered before trying to dislodge whoever the hell was - was -  **glomping**  him.

"What the bloody fuck are you doing?" England screeched when he spotted that stupid little hat. "Seriously, Stefan!"

"I thought you liked surprises," Romania pouted, small fangs sticking over his bottom lip. He was still holding onto Arthur, arms around his neck and legs wrapped round his waist.

"Not when I'm not aware of them," England snapped, prying the arms off of him and dumping Stefan on the ground.

"Ouch!" Romania hissed as he landed flat on his ass. "That ruins the whole point of surprises!"

"Precisely," the island nation replied flatly, hands on his hips as he glared. "Now what are you doing here?"

" **He's**  seeking sanctuary. I'm just along for the ride." Bulgaria was lounging against the wall and seriously, when did they get here and how had England missed them? Then what Bulgaria said sank in.

"Sanctuary?" he asked, very bewildered. "For what?"

"For protection; that's kind of the general definition of sanctuary," Romania said, a little worried that England apparently didn't know this.

"I know what it means-" England stopped himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look, just come inside all right? We're bound to attract attention if we stay out here much longer."

"Your face attracts attention," Romania replied cheerfully. Bulgaria facepalmed and an unintelligible garbled sound escaped Arthur's mouth before he turned to the portrait, hissed his password, and stomped inside after the portrait swung aside.

Arthur marched straight to the small aside table, poured himself a glass of strong alcohol (because he needed it to deal with these Morrigan-damned hellions), and downed it in one shot. "Please," he said testily, "do tell me why you're here requesting sanctuary."

"It's your Voldemort annoyance," Kiril said in an attempt to keep the peace. "Apparently he's been dealing with Stefan's boss."

"Yeah, and my boss was trying to get me to meet with him," Stefan chimed in. He slumped down in a chair by the fireplace, arms crossed, his right leg over his left knee. "Saying how it was important I meet a great man who was going to change the world for the better. Once I found out who he was I was just like "Nope, I'm outtie!" and then my boss tried to lock me up." He pouted, looking very petulant.

"His boss contacted me, telling me there was an emergency, that Stefan had disappeared and they couldn't find him," Kiril continued. "I was going to ignore it but he kept calling so I decided to just get it over with, since I thought maybe Stefan was just pouting or something." He scowled, not at all pleased in being manipulated to possibly bringing his friend harm. "Stefan found me, explained what was going on, and then got us both out with the help of his friend Eldred Worple."

"Eldred Worple, where have I heard that name," England mused before recalling: "Oh yes, Horace was bragging about having a vampire friend of his-" He cut off, looking at the other two countries with a supremely unimpressed look. "You decided to escape the possible clutches of Voldemort by coming to the country where he is most active?"

"Hey, in my defense I didn't know that was where Red was coming!" Romania retorted. "I just remembered that he was going out of the country soon! It seemed like a good idea at the time..."

"Plus it's not as if you're the best of friends or anything," Bulgaria added. "I doubt that they'd reach the conclusion we're here, at least not from a logical standpoint."

"Ah, but that's the trouble with wizards," England huffed. "Hardly a lick of common sense to be found anywhere. And the fact that apparently your boss wanted to introduce you to Voldemort?" He looked at the both of them. "Not good."

"Wait," Romania said, dawning realization in his voice. "You think that my boss meant to introduce me... like  **introduce** me? As a country?"

"That would explain why he went to so much trouble, even trying to lock you up," Bulgaria added softly. "A show of force that the literal personification of a country could be brought to heel?" His gaze met England's. "That would definitely be something he'd be interested in."

* * *

"Earth to Draco, are you reading me?" Blaise waved a hand in front of his friend's face.

"No, I'm reading this book," the blond replied dully.

Blaise frowned, then plucked the book (he noted the title,  _Shrouded Darkness_ , and mentally shelved it for future reference) out of Draco's hands. "No, you can take one night off," he said over the beginning of Draco's protests, holding the book as far away as he could.

"Blaise, you don't understand," Draco insisted, silver-grey eyes wide with barely concealed fear, "I can't afford any delays!"

"You have been through how many dusty old books in this year alone?" Blaise retorted. "That's rhetorical, by the way. Dray, you have been wearing yourself down to the bone. Dark Lord or not, you are human, and you need to rest. Aht!" He cut off interruptions with a hand in the Malfoy heir's face. "I am going to take this book, lock it in my trunk, and will only give it back to you after you have gotten some sleep."

"What's to stop me from taking it while you're at Slughorn's party?" Draco asked mulishly, but looking so very very tired.

Blaise shrugged. "Nothing, I suppose. I'm your friend though, and I would hope that you at least would respect my privacy. Plus I have a blood ward on my trunk that would make it impossible for you to get in, but, you know, that's neither here nor there." He laid a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Get some rest. You're not going to be able to do anything if you can't concentrate or understand what it is you're reading."

"I'm going home for the holidays," Draco said in a small voice.

"Oh, Dray." Blaise pulled him in for a quick hug. "I'm here for you. Anything you need, so long as it isn't too illegal, I'll help you."

* * *

Harry fidgeted with the collar of his shirt as he waited for Luna. The Ravenclaw had chosen a pair of dark brown, almost black slacks and a silvery light green dress shirt. It looked good on him, though his neck felt a bit constricted because of the somewhat tight collar. Then, out of the corner of his eyes, he saw someone. He looked over and felt his jaw drop.

Luna walked over to him, looking practically ethereal in a flowy light blue dress. It seemed to float around her and made it seem as though she were gliding across the floor. "Hello Harry," she greeted him with a shy smile.

"H-hi," he stuttered, taken aback. "You look... fantastic."

Luna's smile grew wider. "Thank you. You look very spiffy too." She offered him her arm and he took it, crooking his elbow in hers.

"No, really, you look absolutely amazing," he said. "Very non-Nargle-y."

She giggled a little. "Thank you Harry. I trust you like your outfit?"

He nodded. "It's also very non-Nargle-y."

They arrived to find a few people already mingling. Professor Slughorn noted Harry and Luna's entrance and perked up. "Harry m'boy!" he called, waving for the boy to come over.

"Good evening Professor Slughorn," Harry said.

"Yes, good evening!" the potions professor beamed. "May I say, Miss...?"

"Lovegood," Luna supplied.

"Miss Lovegood, you look absolutely stunning," Slughorn complimented her.

"Thank you," Luna smiled a bit shyly.

"Ah, may I introduce my dear friend, Eldred Worple?" Slughorn gestured to the pale and dour looking man beside him. "And his friends, Stefan and Kiril, are over there talking to Professor Kirkland." His smile was a bit strained at the mention of the History teacher.

Harry and Luna looked over to see Kirkland was talking to, or rather being talked at, by a rather vibrant dressed man with a cute tiny hat who gesticulated wildly. The third man had dark hair and seemed to have a "Why God me" expression that was apparently universal.

"Eldred Worple comes from Transylvania," Slughorn said in what was supposed to be a confidential tone but was rather ruined by the wink he immediately gave Harry. "Very interesting, eh Harry m'boy?"

"Yeah, interesting," Harry agreed.  _Vampires. Well, this can only turn out in a variety of grisly and awful ways._

"Mr. Worple," Luna said, expression determined and - wait, where did that pen and notepad come from? "Would you be willing to give an interview to the Quibbler later on how global warming has affected the vampire population in Transylvania and the neighboring continent of Atlantis?"

The vampire looked at her for a moment, then smiled. It was absolutely terrifying. "I would be interested in speaking with you on such manners Miss Lovegood," he said, amused. "I am certain that Stefan would love to talk to you about it as well."

Luna beamed. "Thank you very much Mr. Worple. Would you also be willing to talk about such issues as Stubby Boardman's next performance, whether a tour is in the works, and on the subject of endangered species such as the Crumple Horned Snorkack and other magical creatures as a result of being flushed out of their homes by Muggle developments?"

"Holy shit, someone else who knows the truth!" The auburn haired man with the cute hat had come over and his eyes were practically sparkling at Luna. "I told you that endangered species were a critical issue!" he complained to the dark haired man and Professor Kirkland, who both wore long-suffering expressions.

"Yeah, only been hearing you rant about it for the last decade or so," the dark haired man rolled his eyes. Professor Kirkland snickered.

The auburn-haired man pouted - aaaand there were tiny fangs sticking over his bottom lip, Harry noticed, just wonderful. "You suck Kiril, and you too, Eyebrows."

Kirkland scowled. "Do shut up before I pull your teeth."

"No, my little babies!" He covered his mouth and glared at Kirkland, who rolled his eyes before turning to Harry.

"I expect to see you in my office the day after tomorrow for lessons, Potter."

"Yes sir," Harry nodded, looking forward to and dreading it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luna asks the hard questions, as all hardcore reporters do.
> 
> So, I updated! Yaaaaaay. Unsure when the next chapter will be up, but probably in a couple weeks to a month bc I've finally kicked myself in the ass about updating some of my fics. If anyone wants to talk or rant or whatever, you can hit me up at my tumblr, sgchan. There's also a link to my super cool Etsy shop on my profile, where I sell super cool jewelry and shit. Shameless plugs :)
> 
> Remember to review please! It was actually the latest Guest review that made me start writing again, so do keep in mind that reviews help an author beyond making them feel good about their story!
> 
> Also is anybody else watching Steven Universe because holy shit SAVE LAPIS PLS SAVE MY DAUGHTER


	26. Close Encounters of the Hockey Kind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No language key this chapter. However there is an abundance of NA bros being little shits, so prepare yourselves!

Romania can't help but grin at the blonde human who was asking questions with such a cute expression of determination. Hell, this almost made the whole situation - his boss trying to lock him up, England's crazy Voldemort guy possibly being after him, Kiril being a total drag about the whole situation - worth it because not only was the cute little human a journalist, but she knew which questions to ask, and wasn't afraid of asking some particularly unsavory ones.

Did he believe the Rotfang Conspiracy had been engineered in order to make way for a Dark Lord who would rival Voldemort, the Dark Lord Snoozlificus?

Wellll, not really, but that Rotfang Conspiracy sounded promising, and if there  **was**  a Dark Lord named Snoozlificus - which Romania highly doubted because that was a really stupid and not a striking fear into the hearts of everyone name - he'd be ready for it! Well, probably. If all else failed, he could break out his best boss's tactics - there was something about sticking heads on pikes or otherwise upholstering them that struck a chord within him, somewhere deep down inside.

Hmm, maybe that was that squirrel he'd had when he and Kiril had been sneaking out of his place; they were stringy little things.

* * *

 Arthur had been so very tempted to skip the party, either by terrifying Horace so his invitation was rescinded, or just not going and hang the consequences of being rude. However, with Bulgaria and Romania's arrival he was rather forced to come, if only to make sure that the two of them didn't traumatize anyone or let word of their being here to the wrong person. Horace Slughorn liked to surround himself with influential people, and that included Dark, Grey, and Light alike.

Case in point, he'd invited Arthur even though he was half convinced the man was a vampire or some other such nonsense and would murder him in his sleep. Honestly, if Arthur  **was**  going to kill him, it would be to his face because killing someone in their sleep was dull, not very challenging, and boring.

He frowned. Maybe there was something wrong, because he usually was not this violent minded, not without some sort of stresser. Romania cackled about something the Lovegood girl asked him and England twitched. Possible stresser right there.

Well, so long as he didn't go quite as off the rails as he had with those Death Eaters in Hogsmeade, he would be fine. Though they had really deserved it. Like,  **really**. Seriously, attacking school children! Further proof of Voldemort's insanity right there because children were literally the future, and it was all well and good to sway adults to your side, but children were much easier to mold and killing them off was shooting yourself in the foot as far as future minions and generations went and-

England frowned. Perhaps there was something in the punch.

* * *

 Kiril fought against the urge to bang his head against the wall as his pansexual life partner and bestie insisted on waxing poetic about his favorite boss for all to hear.

"Yes, you have the biggest boner for Vlad ever, we get it already!" he wanted to yell at him. But alas, he was surrounded by school children, and at least Stefan wasn't being  **too**  graphic in his retelling of, quote, "the most badass battle ever in all of history!", end quote. Although that one slightly pudgy boy did look a little green...

Bulgaria sighed before he knocked back almost his entire glass of punch. He needed something waaaaay stronger than this if he wasn't going to start dying of boredom. Either that, or succumb to the urge to poke people's faces with a stick. Ugh, curse the Italies for having such adorable and pokeable faces,  **especially**  Veneziano!

He brooded for a few minutes before he noticed England rubbing at his temples and scowling. Now, this wasn't so strange an incident, but the Briton was swaying a little, there was a slight sheen of perspiration on his face, and his normally sharp green eyes were dull and clouded. Kiril bit down on his bottom lip, brown eyes narrowed in thought.

On the one hand, England might just be drunk, because Lord knew he was a bit of a lightweight. But there wasn't anything in the punch here - or if there was, Kiril was  **not**  getting any of the good stuff - plus the blond hadn't really been drinking; he took this teacher gig seriously. So, to help him or no?

On the one hand, it was the responsible thing to do, but on the other hand it was a bad idea to leave Stefan here on his own - bad for Kiril's continued health, the humans gathered, and Stefan himself because if the idiot did anything stupid, he'd be getting passive aggressive sticky notes  **everywhere**  for weeks. Bulgaria gave the room a once over in a vain search for a responsible person he could have watch Romania.

He considered Romania's Eldred Worple friend for a moment before dismissing him. They were supposed to be keeping a low profile, and he'd rather not leave Stefan with someone he didn't know. The trust issue was secondary, really.  _I should probably make sure that Eyebrows actually needs my help first,_  Kiril mused.

He made his way over to England, making sure to keep an eye on Stefan as he did so. "Hey," he said quietly once he'd reached the island nation. "You okay? You look a little out of it."

"Hmm?" England started. "Oh, it's you."

"Yeah, it's me." Kiril frowned. "Something wrong?"

"Oh, just the usual when you've got a megalomaniac trying to take over your entire country before moving on to the world." England waved around the hand not holding his drink.

"You well enough to be here? We can go back if-" Kiril really shouldn't have been surprised by the glare sent his way.

"I can hold my own," England retorted lowly.

 _Forgot about his pride,_  Bulgaria thought with a mental eye roll. "Well," he said, "I've been thinking it's probably about time for us to be going, since Stef's gone about two thirds of the way through his non-gory "Epic Boss Vlad" stories and it's only a matter of time before he starts really offending someone's sensibilities." He raised an eyebrow slightly as he gave England a self deprecating half smile. "Castle's big and we'll probably need help finding your room again." He could tell that England was only  **just**  holding back an eye roll of his own.

"Fine," the blond conceded. "Be disastrous to have you two running around."

"Yes," Kiril agreed before going to get Stefan. Now he would just have to convince him to go quietly and in a way that didn't give Stefan a carte blanche of sexual favors or any other favors. There were far too many living paintings around here for his comfort...

* * *

 "You know, I'd forgotten how much fun it was partying with human magicals," Romania mused as he practically skipped down the hall. "I mean, it's a little less fun when they're completely terrified of you because they think you'll eat them or something, but on the whole, very fun." He turned to Arthur with a grin. "And you're not half as stuffy as I remember you; you should get out more often!"

Arthur groaned. "It is far too cold outside to be going anywhere."

Stefan blinked. "Well, that isn't quite what I meant..."

The trio stopped as they came to an intersecting hallway that was packed with cats.

"What gives?" Romania demanded, amber eyes glinting as he looked this way and that for the cats' "owner". "Greece you get your ass out here!"

"You really don't want me to drop my pants," Heracles said as he came out of the shadows.

"That isn't what I meant!" Stefan seethed while Kiril sighed and Arthur facepalmed. Then Arthur spied a tabby cat with glasses markings around her eyes and sighed heavily.

"Can we just collectively pretend this never happened?" he asked the group at large.

"Absolutely," Bulgaria agreed immediately.

"Eh, whatevs," Romania shrugged.

Greece cocked his head to the side. "Why?"

"Because your "group" here contains a professor," England said, going over and picking up McGonagall, who was purring heavily. "Who I suspect has been given some catnip," he added with an eyebrow raise at Greece.

"I like to reward my minions for their time," the Mediterranean nation explained.

"Please don't use that word," Stefan begged. "Too many bad memories, too much yellow."

"Wuss," Kiril snorted.

"My... subordinates then," Heracles amended.

England set the transformed professor down in the direction they had come from the party. "This never happened," he told her. Even in her somewhat stoned state, she nodded in agreement.

* * *

 "Ha ha ha, once again the hero wins!" Alfred laughed loudly before getting body slammed.

"You cheating asswipe!" Matthew snarled, holding his brother a moment before being pushed off.

"Did not!" Alfred replied with a glare.

"You had a high stick," Matthew glowered. "The goal doesn't count."

" **You**  don't count!" Alfred retorted before swinging his stick at Matthew, who caught it with his own.

"I can count higher than fifty," Matthew taunted, leaning in to hold his ground.

"Well, you've only got ten provinces!" Alfred shot back.

"And free health care!" Matthew exclaimed before pulling his stick back and moving to the side so when Alfred lost his balance and fell forward, the northern nation was not pulled to the ground with him.

"Asshole," Alfred said, pouting from where he lay on the ice.

"You're a good looking man when you're humble," Matthew drawled.

"I'm always good looking," Alfred protested, holding his hand out.

"Then it must be your personality that's keeping Arthur away."

"You're so mean!" Alfred whined, face flushed more now than when he'd been checked. He dropped his hand and pushed himself off the ice. "Prussia's assholeness has rubbed off on you."

"Oh,  **something**  rubbed off on me," Matthew agreed with a grin.

"EW EW EW!" Alfred clapped his hands over his ears, never mind he was still holding a hockey stick. "La la la la, my brother is an innocent virgin, la la la la!"

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Oh please, neither of us has been innocent since that time when we were little and accidentally found Finland and Sweden together." The two brothers shared a shudder. "High stick," Matthew noted and slapped Alfred's stick down with his own.

"Jesus, bro!" Alfred rubbed at his hand where Matthew hit him. "That was unnecessarily harsh!"

"All's fair in hockey and hockey."

"Then my "cheating" earlier shouldn't have mattered!"

"All's fair in  **Canadian**  hockey; by playing you automatically make it American hockey so it doesn't count for you."

"You're an asshole bro."

"Aww Al, you make me feel all warm inside," Matthew teased.

"Tis the season," the other blond replied mockingly. "Speaking of, what are you doing for the holidays?"

Matthew shrugged, leaning on his stick. "I dunno, hang with Gil, pick up some papers from Arthur's, maybe visit him at the school before visiting Papa."

"Wait, school?" Alfred asked. "He's  **teaching**?"

"Yeah," Matthew nodded. "At Hogwarts."

"He's teaching  **magic**?" Alfred laughed. "Wait, is that why Will was sitting in for him last meeting?"

"Yes, which you would've known if you'd been paying attention!"

"You know how boring those things are!"

Matthew shook his head. "Honestly, Al."

"Honestly, Matt."

Canada raised an eyebrow. "You want me to kick your ass again?"

America pouted. "I  **let**  you win."

"Sure you did," Canada said with a patronizing smile. "So what are you going to be doing? Rockefeller Center with the tree?"

Alfred frowned. "Am I that predictable?"

"Only to me," Matthew assured him, slinging an arm around his shoulder and ruffling his hair.

"Bro, stop it!" Alfred protested. "I'm sensitive, man!"

"Whoops," Matthew grinned. "Hey, if you don't have anything else to do, maybe you could come with me."

"To visit Gilbert?"

"No, putting you two in a room together without a buffer is a bad idea. I'm talking about visiting Arthur."

"Ehh? I dunno..." Alfred did a weird little shuffle and Matthew realized he'd been trying to scuff his foot against the ground, something not really possible when you were wearing ice skates, much less standing on an outdoor ice rink.

"C'mon Al, it'll be fun; there'll even be people your age there!"

"Wh-?" Alfred narrowed his eyes. "Not funny man; I'm not  **that**  immature."

"Which is why you'll come instead of hiding away and ignoring your crush," Matthew said.

Alfred spluttered a little. "Th-that was uncalled for, okay!"

Matthew gave his shoulder a little punch that would have an ordinary person sprawled on the ground. "Al c'mon, I know you can do this. And..." He looked away sheepishly, scratching at the back of his head. "Well, I may have had an ulterior motive in seeing you today."

"Aha! I knew it!" Alfred pointed dramatically, forefinger barely an inch from Matthew's face.

The northern nation rolled his eyes before pushing Alfred's hand away. "I've been having dreams about Mom lately."

"About  **Mom**?" Alfred asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Matthew nodded. "There's a family of deer struck by lightning, and a hunter that looks like..." He bit his lip before continuing. "Then I'm little and she's singing..."

"Our lullaby," Alfred finished softly.

"Yeah," Matthew agreed with a small nostalgic smile.

"You think Arthur might know what it means?" Alfred asked.

"I figure it can't hurt. And if I'm right about it..." Matthew shrugged. "Forewarned is forearmed."

Alfred frowned, blue eyes narrowed behind Texas. "There's something you're not telling me."

"Yeah, about how good a blowjob Gil gives," Matthew retorted.

"UGH! Maaaatt!" Alfred mimed retching.

"Aaaaaal!" Matthew mimicked.

"I hate you, but I'll come," Alfred grumbled. "Although I'm not sure how I'll be able to stand being in the same room with Gilbert now that I know what I know."

"I'm sure you'll manage somehow," Matthew chuckled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter, new subplots, new questions! Speaking of, if you have any questions, or would like to just shout at me but also enjoy cute steven universe content, hit me up at my tumblr blog, sgchan! Also go visit my cool Etsy shop where I sell cool jewelry because it's cool to support artists!
> 
> No but seriously this upcoming Steven bomb and also the new Gravity Falls episodes are going to kill me; the next chapter will be soon but probably not for like two weeks because these shows are going to emotionally drain whatever my job at Taco Bell doesn't from me
> 
> Hope you all liked the chapter, and don't forget to review! They fuel me in a way that food cannot...


	27. Overly, Thoroughly, and Underly Whelmed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, new chapter from heaven here, prepare for some plot bombs! They're not quite as emotionally crippling as Steven Bombs. 
> 
> Probably.
> 
> THE OBLIGATORY LANGUAGE KEY RETURNS FROM WAR:
> 
> Japanese: "/insert text/"

"Professor, are you all right?" Harry asked worriedly as Professor Kirkland entered the classroom. The blond's brow was shiny with sweat and there was a certain list to his steps.

"Of course, I'm perfectly fine," Kirkland said with what was supposed to be a reassuring smile but just made him look a bit sicker.

"We can do this some other time if you'd like," Harry offered.

"No, we'll be fine," Kirkland said. "I'm made of stern stuff." He chuckled a little. "That was a good one."

 _A good what?_  Harry wondered, then drew back a little as the professor sat down on a chair he'd taken from one of the neighboring tables and dragged in front of Harry's seat.

"Anyways Potter, it's imperative we get this done, because I do not fancy having my country taken over by a megalomaniac that I can't control."

"I'm sorry, are you implying there are some that you can control?" Harry asked incredulously.

"It's what most of politics is," Kirkland said with the air of someone who knew exactly what they were talking about. Harry was rather inclined to ignore this statement completely and get on with the lesson. More productive, not to mention less stressful on his brain.

"Now, have you noticed anything different about yourself in the last few days?" Kirkland asked, green eyes locked on Harry's in a way that felt not quite intrusive, but still made him feel irrationally guilty.

"Er, not exactly?" Harry said, fidgeting in his seat. "I mean, I guess I didn't trip over myself nearly as much as I thought I would at the party with Luna, but nothing really out of the ordinary."

"So it would be safe to say that you're normally nervous around a girl you like?"

"No, I was nervous with Luna," Harry disagreed. "Not as much, since she's not really into that whole perfect Boy-Who-Lived thing, but it was more like everything came naturally to me, and I didn't worry about saying or doing the wrong thing."

"So you're more confident?"

Harry pondered for a moment before nodding. "Yes, I guess I am."

Kirkland smiled, and there was a certain vibrancy about him that hadn't been there before. "Excellent. Do you know, Potter, exactly what I was doing in your head?"

"Broadening my horizons?"

"Somewhat. I was essentially going to just tweak things here or there when I happened upon something very interesting."

Something akin to dread settled in the pit of Harry's stomach. "Interesting" was never a good word when it came to him. "And what was that sir?"

"Did you ever wonder," Kirkland said, leaning back in a nonchalant way that sent shivers down Harry's spine, "how you were able to drive off over one hundred dementors at the age of thirteen?" The question threw Harry for a moment, not that it mattered as the professor continued speaking. "Or how you were able to fight a basilisk at the age of twelve while at the same time evading the shade of a much more experience wizard, or why even after ten years of being neglected and borderline abused, no one, even at Hogwarts, asked  **any**  questions?"

The pity in his stomach now felt like a bowling ball made of ice, and he couldn't speak for the nausea he felt and the pity in Kirkland's eyes.

"Not to mention that the damage Severus did to your natural mental defenses made you all the more susceptible to possession, making you throwing the Dark Lord out of your head all the more surprising."

Harry felt like he might vomit. "How-" he stammered. "How did you-"

"There are ways of reading a person's mind undetected by methods lost to time, though quite a few of them involve ritual sacrifice," Kirkland said softly, laying his hands gently on Harry's shoulders. Harry wasn't quite sure whether that was supposed to be a joke, because there was the way he said it, but it was the way he said it. "There's the prophecy, of course, but that was hardly the only thing that's been protecting you all these years."

"My mother," Harry croaked out, the smell of Quirrel's flesh burning beneath his fingers suddenly vivid in his mind.

"Yes," Kirkland nodded, his thumbs digging not unpleasantly into Harry's upper back. "I was never completely sure what ritual she used to protect you - not until I was in your head and saw your memory of that night." The professor drew back and stood, fingers laced behind his back as he paced. "See, magick helps make the impossible possible, but at a price. Every spell takes energy, the Dark Arts corrupt, and there are certain things that can't be done, at least not by humans. What your mother did that night-" Here Kirkland wrung his hands together and there was a gleam in his eye that reminded Harry of Hermione around exam times. "What little was left of the room held few clues, which in itself was a clue because the ritual she used, it leveled not just the room, but turned Riddle's spell on himself, or at least the energy since a proper Avada Kedavra would have killed him, though who knows with his-"

"Professor," Harry interrupted, knowing to take advantage of any infinitesimal pause when he could. "Aren't rituals, well, Dark? My mum-"

"Was your mum, and believe me, a parent's love for their child can drive them to do sometimes unspeakable things," Kirkland said almost wistfully.

"Was it really her love that protected me? That burned Quirrel?" Harry asked, not quite ready to believe that the cockamamie story Dumbledore had given him after the Philosopher's Stone debacle was actually true.

"Her love was a catalyst, definitely, but not the entire source. It-" Kirkland frowned, large brows furrowed together in an almost comical manner. "You know magick exists."

"Yes," Harry said slowly.

"Well, there's magick like is performed every day in classes and the like, and then there's Magick, the actual driving force behind that power. The latter can be accessed by humans and the like where leylines cross, or by summoning a higher class of being." Kirkland turned and his eyes were so very green as he looked straight into Harry. "What your mother did was ask Magick Itself to protect her child, with her life in exchange. The prophecy was just icing on the cake as it wasn't until Riddle attempted to kill you that it came into effect. When he "marked" you, that is."

"Wh-" Harry swallowed. "How can you be sure?"

"Weeellll, I had a bit of an ulterior motive for poking around in your head," Kirkland confessed, a little sheepish. "See, Riddle came to your home that night with the additional purpose of using your death to create a Dark object known as a Horcrux, which is for all intents and purposes a soul anchor-"

"What."

"-and I didn't know  **that**  until recently, else I would have done this much earlier, but Albus theorized that it was entirely possible that your link to him was the result of a partial Horcrux-"

"You mean I've got part of that bastard actually  **living**  in my head?" Harry cried. "I'm the reason he didn't fully die before?"

"No no no!" Kirkland protested, pressing his hands on Harry's shoulders from where he'd half-risen from his seat. "He'd already made several - you killed one when you faced the basilisk - Harry, believe me when I say that it's not your fault."

"How is it  **not**  my fault?"

"Did you make him kill people?"

"Well, no, but it's because of me that-"

"Then it's a case of what an associate of mine would call "cool motive, still murder". Riddle decided to become a Dark Lord, to kill people and subject them to his will. It's hardly your fault that he sees you as his prophesied enemy."

"The Horcrux," Harry said, tripping over the word a bit, remembering Kirkland's odd line of questioning. "Did it affect me, my behavior?"

"It was like a leech, using your magic to survive," Kirkland explained. "It actually strengthened your magic, as whatever it took you had to replenish, making you much stronger than the average wizard. That and the blessing your mother bartered have assisted you all these years."

"Did you get rid of it?" Harry nearly demanded.

"Messing with souls is dangerous," Kirkland said. "Especially when it's as tightly attached as this Horcrux. It's had fifteen years to make itself at home in you after all. I might be able to remove it," he added at the crestfallen look on Harry's face. "For now I've bound it in a sort of stasis which should stop or at least weaken the link you share."

"What would it take to remove it?" Harry asked, determined to have his soul and magic fully to himself.

"Well, normally the only ways to destroy a Horcrux also destroy its container. But," Kirkland smirked, "luckily for you I know of a way to probably remove it. It'll require a ridiculous costume change, but that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

"I'm sorry?" Harry asked, not sure he heard correctly.

"Have you ever seen Sailor Moon?"

"No."

"Power Rangers?"

"Eh, a bit."

"Ah. Well, it's like that, except a bit more revealing."

Harry eyed the professor suspiciously. "I hope you realize that doesn't inspire much confidence in me. And are you sure you're up to this?"

"Perfectly fine," Kirkland sniffed, standing straight and tugging at his sweater vest to flatten the bunched bits. "Now you'll need to make a wish, out loud."

"Really."

"Yes really, there's a process!"

Harry, by now completely sure that his "life changing shit" quotient of the day was filled, closed his eyes and said, slightly sarcastically, "I wish the Horcrux in me was gone."

The bright flash of light that followed after he spoke made his eyes squeeze shut even tighter, one arm thrown up over his face. When he opened his eyes the first thing that occurred to him was that either Kirkland shaved his legs or all the body hair people normally have went to his eyebrows instead. The second was ". _.. the fuck?"_

"You weren't kidding about it being revealing," was what he said aloud. He'd never given much thought to boys, and he'd only started to look at girls recently, but the skimpy off the shoulder  **toga**  Kirkland was wearing sent blood rushing to Harry's cheeks.

"Yes, not exactly the most dignified things," Kirkland sighed, and oh Merlin those were angel wings and a halo.

"What are you?" Harry blurted.

"A construct of Magick solidified by the conscious banding of humans and others into a territory settlement," Kirkland replied flippantly. At Harry's blank look he sighed. "Or I suppose you could call me Britannia Angel." He waved a stick with a star on the end around and an aurora of glitter and sparkles formed over their heads, nicely complementing the way he was pretty much  **glowing**.

"... you're an angel."

"Well not usually," Kirk-  **Britannia Angel**  said with a slight pout and how was this Harry's life, seriously. "Only when someone makes a wish in my vicinity. The rest of the time I'm jolly old England."

"... please tell me that was a metaphor," Harry not-quite begged because it made a startling amount of sense otherwise.

"I'm entirely serious lad," Britannia Angel said with a frown. "Now about our Horcrux problem, if you'd just hold still-"

"The last time you said that you hit me over the head with a frying pan," Harry cut him off.

"Oh, I won't be nearly so crass this time," Britannia Angel gigled, thoroughly creeping Harry out. "You see, I don't normally have nearly as much control over my magic as I do right now; comes from temporarily moving up the ladder so to speak."

Harry didn't want to think about going up ladders because that toga was very short and he had no desire to see whether his professor was wearing underwear or not. "All right," he sighed. "Let's get this over with."

"All right then," Britannia Angel smiled, well, angelically. "Hoata!"

* * *

There was an almost imperceptible rumble in the castle and Albus Dumbledore smiled as a warm energy washed over him. Fawkes trilled from his perch, the song ombining with the warm energy to create an almost idyllic feel.

"It appears Arthur has taken care of the problem," he remarked aloud to Fawkes, who happily trilled several notes that would have been shrill had they come from any other bird. It was almost enough to distract him from the report that Alastor had finally been able to compile on the list of books that were missing from the bookshop's inventory, thought to be either consumed by flame or stolen. The latter was far likelier, considering the tomes missing were almost exclusively borderline Dark texts and a number of rare histories from the time period of Merlin and Morgana.

A frown almost made its way to Albus's face through the warmth of Phoenix and Angel Magick. He thoroughly disliked not knowing what Tom was up to.

His attention was redirected when the flames of his fireplace flared green. Nudging his slippers on, Albus shuffled to the fireplace and bent at the knees, a feat for a man as old as he looked and was.

"/Hello Dumbledore-san,/" the man on the other side greeted with a soft smile.

"/Good afternoon,/" the headmaster replied, the foreign words not as heavy on his tongue as one might think; he was fluent in Mermish after all. "/I assume you are ready?/"

"/Yes,/" the man replied. "/Is the way cleared?/"

Albus surreptitiously smoothed the rug in front of the fireplace out. "/Yes, it is./"

The flames flared green, and a short Japanese man stepped through, a medium sized suitcase held in his hand. He looked around, smiling when he spotted Fawkes. "/I am looking forward to experiencing English magical culture,/" he said with a slight bow.

Albus stood, then bowed back. "/I hope it is a pleasant experience for you./"

"Oh, I'm sure it will be," Kiku Honda said with a small grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how much I was grinning as I wrote the last half of this chapter, dear readers! NO. IDEA. Feel free to read that in Cecil's voice btw; that's how I thought it.
> 
> Alternate title for this story: Harry Potter and the Year He Met His Country And It Was Far More Underwhelming Than You'd Think. Alternate title for this chapter: Harry doesn't know how this is his life
> 
> This Harry is probs as close to Canon!Harry as I will write, and he is either grey ace or demi ace, I will fight everyone on this.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Remember, reviews are this writer's lifeblood, and will probably make her feet hurt less! Also go check out my Etsy shop where I have cool Steven Universe themed bracelets, Supernatural character inspired bracelets, Hogwarts House bracelets, and soon there will be LGBTQIA+ bracelets!


	28. Family Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Good news, I've got an updating schedule going now! I'm currently focusing on this story, Shadow Bride, and Schismatic and am going to update once a week with a chapter for the story. This week it's AWW, next week will be Shadow Bride, and the week after will be Schismatic before the cycle repeats. I've got a couple days a week where I don't work so this is something I can actually manage! :D
> 
> Giripan is so fun to write, they're like a couple straight out of a shoujo manga =7=
> 
> The obligatory language key makes another appearance!
> 
> Greek: "/insert text/"

Heracles looked up from the essays he was grading when the castle rumbled and the warm aura of Angel Magick spread over him. "Wonder what prompted that," he said aloud, using his free hand to scritch the belly of the cat laying on his lap. "It's not even dinner yet."

He gnawed on the end of his pen before frowning. "Tastes bad," he muttered, ink dripping from his mouth before he wiped it off. He frowned at the back of his hand, now smeared with black. With a sigh, Heracles picked the cat up with his free clean hand and placed it in the spot on his desk free of papers designated for catnapping. "/Clean,/" he muttered and the ink resisted for a moment before fading away.

If there was one good thing about letting Kiku talk him into this, it was that Heracles had been able to get in touch with his roots, remember the stories his father had told him of magick and his extended family's world. Granted, it was completely different from modern magic, both time and culture having created a huge gap between what he vaguely remembered and what he was presented with, but it was something, something more than the intrinsic connection to the land he possessed and the vague memories he had of his childhood.

Speaking of which, he hadn't seen Rosaria in ages. Not literally, but pretty damn close. It'd been, what, at least thirty years? Hmm, maybe after teaching he could go visit her. Throw some stuff at Turkey, relive old times. That would be fun. Whether or not to bring Kiku with, that was a whole other matter.

There was a warm buzz at the back of his mind and Heracles sat up straight, eyes narrowing. It couldn't be...

He left his office and followed the feeling through hallways and up and down stairs, always going where the feeling was strongest until it led him to just outside the Great Hall.

"It's a bit empty now since so many students visit home for the holidays, but still a magnificent sight nonetheless," he heard Dumbledore say before the wizard came round the corner accompanied by...

"Kiku," Heracles breathed, a wide smile breaking across his face.

Somehow, Kiku heard him and he turned from Dumbledore to face Heracles. They stared at each other for a moment that seemed like an eternity and Heracles could have sworn that there was a soft wind blowing and wind chimes somewhere. "Hello," Kiku said with a small bow of his head, a soft smile on his face. "It's good to-"

He was cut off by Heracles running up and nearly knocking the wind out of him from how hard he hugged him.

"I missed you," the Mediterranean nation murmured, his face buried in the junction where Kiku's neck and shoulder met.

It took a couple seconds for Kiku to recover and he promptly wrapped his arms around Heracles, hands barely meeting at his upper back. "I missed you too," he replied, a small smile on his face. "Even if I did get twice as much done without you bothering me."

"Hey," Heracles pouted, straightening and placing Kiku back on the floor. "After so many months that's the first thing you say?"

"You tried to firecall me for a-" Kiku turned away, face red. "I think I'm entitled to a little teasing."

"I get lonely with only Eng- Kirkland to talk to about things," Heracles muttered. Kiku just smiled up at him.

"Well, I'll leave you two alone," Dumbledore said after a moment of silence where the two nations just stared at each other with sappy smiles. "Professor Karpusi, maybe you'd like to show Honda-san around?"

"I'd love to," Heracles agreed, eyes never leaving Kiku's. He held out an arm and Kiku looped his arm through, the crooks of their elbows nestled together as they walked off down the hall, light pink sparkles barely visible in the air around them.

Dumbledore watched them go with twinkling eyes. "Ah, love," he said aloud to no one in particular, his smile a little sad.

* * *

_Dear Papa and Daddy,_

_I already told him earlier, but thank Uncle Lukas for me again for the new wand! I've really noticed an improvement in how much easier it is to cast spells now!_

_It's pretty cold here, but not as cold as it is sometimes at home. They really go all out with the decorations, since magic does make it a lot easier. Since it's break a lot of people have gone home so it's kind of empty here, though that just means more time for exploring the castle! By the time classes start again I won't be getting lost anymore! Well, probably. The stairs sometimes go up instead of down or down instead of up which is kind of confusing, but I'm getting the hang of it._

_Do you think you could mail my blue shoebox full of Pokemon cards to me? The big blue shoebox, not the smaller one. More of my classmates have gotten interested in it and there aren't really any shops around here that sell them._

_How's Hanatamago doing? She'd probably have fun here, there's a lot of cats around here, especially lately; I think Greece is lonely or something. There's also a lot of snow but not nearly as much as back home and my joints haven't frozen once! Jerk Arthur taught me a good warming spell but I also like the quilt you sent me and the scarf and mittens. They're just as good as last year's!_

_I miss you both, and Hanatamago and Uncles Lukas and Matthias and even Emil. Hope your Christmas is a good one!_

_Love, Peter_

* * *

"Blaise, come downstairs!"

"Coming Mama!" Blaise took the steps two at a time until he got to the first landing and he saw Signore Vargas in the living room. "H-hi," he said with a nervous smile.

Signore Vargas raised an eyebrow at him and nodded. Blaise held back a shiver.  _Dio_ , the man was scary even when he wasn't trying to be. Such high levels of tsundere... He went down the rest of the stairs one at a time and headed to the kitchen when he was intercepted.

"Blaise, you've gotten so big!" Uncle Feli gushed, hugging him tightly.

"Hi," Blaise got out weakly because Uncle Feli had a very very tight grip when he wanted, seriously, the man could probably pulverize a watermelon if he got excited or scared enough. "You've put on some weight," he noticed. Normally his uncle was not exactly thin, but not fat either.

"Oh, that's the baby," Uncle Feli said with a smile.

"...what," Blaise said.

"The baby!" Uncle Feli repeated and were those sparkles surrounding him? "Me and Luddy are going to be parents!"

Well, that did account for why his uncle seemed so... glowy-ish. "That's great," Blaise said. "If you'll excuse me, I need to go talk to Mama?" Uncle Feli let go with a wave before going in to the living room where Signore Vargas was.

"How is Uncle Feli  **pregnant**?" Blaise hissed once he got to the kitchen where his mother was chopping carrots.

"Well, when two people find each other attractive enough and it's the right time of month," his mother started.

"I  **know**  how that works!" Blaise cried, interrupting what was already a very embarrassing explanation. "But how is Uncle Feli - I mean he's a guy! We took baths when I was little, I think I would've noticed if he wasn't!"

"Magic," his mama drawled. She smirked at the dirty look he gave her. "In all seriousness, though, the answer is magic."

"Really?" Blaise asked skeptically. "How come I've never heard of other guys getting pregnant?"

"I guess you could call it a family legacy," Mama mused, sweeping the carrot slices into a strainer. "I wouldn't be surprised if Lovino does someday once he gets his head out of his ass and tells Antonio he loves him and not just his-"

"I will murder you with a rusty spork," Signore Vargas threatened from the doorway.

Mama turned to him with a sweet smile. "Can't handle the truth?"

Signore Vargas scowled and took a tomato from the bowl on the counter. "You should stop telling your brat stories."

"I'm not a brat," Blaise muttered petulantly. "I'm sixteen."

"Which makes you practically an infant compared to me," Signore Vargas scoffed and bit into his tomato.

"Ignore him," Mama laughed as she rinsed carrot slices. "How are things at Hogwarts? Classes going well?"

"You get mailed my grades monthly," Blaise said suspiciously.

"I'm just curious," she defended. "I hear there's exciting things going on there."

"Exciting like Harry Potter?" Blaise drawled.

"Actually I was thinking more along the lines of vampires," she said with a small smirk.

Signore Vargas nearly choked. "Fuck you Rosaria," he coughed. "Don't say things like that while I'm eating!"

"I'm not even going to ask how you know that," Blaise said with a shake of his head. "But yeah, there were a couple at Professor Slughorn's party. Think they were staying with Professor Kirkland or he knew them at least."

"Fucking England," Signore Vargas scowled. Blaise didn't bother correcting him that Hogwarts was actually in Scotland; hadn't after the first dozen times.

"I am a master of the grapevine," his mama snickered, twirling some red grapes by their stems.

Both Blaise and Signore Vargas groaned. "That was terrible," Blaise complained.

"I agree with the brat for once."

"Neither of you appreciate my wit," she complained with a pout. "If you aren't going to help or adore me, leave the kitchen!"

They gladly did so. Blaise trudged over to the window by the Christmas tree and sat on the sill, gazing out at the silently falling snow. It was beautiful, covering the ground and trees in a wide blanket, but it made him think of Hogwarts, and Draco. He hoped his friend was okay.

* * *

The arrest of Lucius Malfoy had made associating with his family undesirable unless absolutely necessary, so unlike in years past, a large festive party would not be held at the grand Malfoy Manor for the holidays.

There was also the small problem of Voldemort using it as a base of operations and it was difficult to have a party and keep something like that a secret.

_Especially_ , Draco thought as he was escorted by his aunt to the study the Dark Lord had claimed for his own,  _with her around._  He was quite nervous and more than a little scared but tried to present a brave face, or at least one that didn't plainly show how frightened he was.

"Young Draco," Lord Voldemort said with a smile that looked so wrong under his slit nose. "I'm glad you're here. Tell me, how are your studies coming?"

Draco very studiously did not think any sort of smartass remarks. "Very well my Lord," he said. "I'm top of my class in Potions."

"Yes, Severus has taught you well." The hisses produced on the "s" consonants made Draco shiver a tiny bit, and he had to fight back a wince at the widening of the Dark Lord's smile. "Bellatrix, leave us."

"But my Lord," she protested before a sharp look from him quelled any further remarks. "Yes my Lord," she said, and left the room.

The soft click of the door shutting seemed impossibly loud in Draco's ears and he was seized by terror that left him almost unable to breathe.

"Come sit with me," the Dark Lord commanded lightly with a gesture to the chair on the other side of the fireplace from his. Draco obeyed, silently taking his seat. "Your reports on the leylines have been most helpful," Lord Voldemort said.

Though somewhat unnerved by how  **normal**  the situation seemed, Draco simply nodded. "I do my best to serve, my Lord."

"Yes, you are well on your way to making up for your father's mistakes," Lord Voldemort said, his red eyes flashing fiercely in the firelight. "Now, an issue has arisen that I would like your opinion on."

"My Lord?" Draco asked, more than a bit confused.

"Severus has given me some insight into the matter, but it is always best to look at a potential problem from all possible angles. Tell me Draco, as a student, what is your opinion on Arthur Kirkland?"


	29. Makeout Point - Err, Plot

Kiril shivered in the cold winter air. "I'm failing to see how this is the least bit romantic," he said, breath coming out in a cloud of ice particles.

"Cause," Stefan said, slinging an arm around Kiril's neck and tugging him close, "it's perfect for cuddling." He gave Kiril a small smile, fangs showing.

Kiril snorted, snuggling into Stefan's side. "You could have just asked, you know. We could've been inside by a nice warm fire."

"With Eyebrows throwing that high class magick around?" Stefan huffed, leaning his head on Kiril's shoulder. "Thanks but no thanks. I'm sensitive to that much divinity, even if it is mostly diluted. 'Sides, this tower's got a great view."

"True," Kiril agreed, looking out across Hogwarts and the near frozen lake. Snow dusted the treetops of the Forbidden Forest it. the whole scene had a rather tranquil feel to it. "It is  **kinda**  romantic I guess," he admitted after a silent moment. "But I get to pick our next date location, and I won't be getting advice from sixteen year olds."

"Fine by me," Stefan agreed. "Somewhere warmer; maybe somewhere around the equator?"

"Nice beaches, but not too much sand, and nowhere too hot," Kiril said, envisioning a sunny summer day spent lazing in a hammock.

"Not too backwater though. I love magic and all but most of these people are so far behind the times." Stefan "tsk"ed, shaking hsi head. "Seriously, phones and the internet are where it's at."

"Mm, yeah." Kiril grabbed Stefan's hand and laced their fingers together, merely smiling when Stefan looked at him questioningly. "I'm glad we're together," he said, squeezing his hand. "That you're safe."

"Aww Kir," Stefan said, cheeks flushed from more than the cold. "You do care."

"Oh shut up," Kiril muttered and then Stefan started laughing so Kiril leaned in and kissed him. Stefan laughed again, a breathy little thing, and the arm he'd had across Kiril's back came around to cup Kiril's cheek as his other hand squeezed Kiril's tighter. Kiril rested his free hand on Stefan's shoulder as they kissed, chaste and close mouthed at first before Kiril ran his tongue over Stefan's lips and even in the December cold the inside of his mouth was so warm.

A shaky moan left Kiril's throat, nearly swallowed by Stefan's mouth and Kiril tore his hand free from Stefan's to sink into his hair, using that and the grip he had on his shoulder to tug him closer, as close as they could be considering they had on warm coats that while perfect for winter were not very conducive for having a makeout session.

"Ste-Stef," Kiril gasped as he pulled back. "W-we should do this where it's warmer."

"Beaches?" Stefan asked.

Kiril groaned. "No, idiot, in our room where it's warm and we have lube."

"Ohh," Stefan said, nodding in understanding. "You do make all the blood rush from my brain."

"Stop it," Kiril muttered, face red from a number of different factors. "You're a terrible person."

"Very," Stefan agreed with a leer and a nip at Kiril's neck. "The worst. You should probably discipline me."

"You're going to be the death of me," Kiril muttered.

"Yeah, but what a way to go~"

* * *

Harry stole glances at Kirkland from the corner of his eye every few seconds or so.

The professor had changed back from being an  **angel**  (and Harry had never been very religious in the first place, though the insistence from Vernon that Harry would probably spontaneously combust if they brought him into a church probably contributed to that) to looking like a normal, rather boring man with a sweater vest. After confirming that the Horcrux was gone, as evidenced by the fact that Harry's scar was barely visible, a faint mark that Kirkland assured him would fade with time now that such Dark magick was gone from it, the professor had offered to escort Harry back to Gryffindor Tower.

At first Harry had declined, since before he'd gone all higher power Kirkland hadn't looked in the best of health, but strangely enough doing such a powerful act of magic seemed to bolster instead of drain him. Probably connected to the professor also being the actual embodiment of England, and wasn't  **that**  yet another dose of crazy to the strangeness that was Harry's life?

In the meantime, the silence as they walked through the empty halls was getting to him.

"Professor-" Harry started before cutting himself off, unsure of how to address him. "Er, England, or-"

"You can call me Professor Kirkland," Kirkland told him. "Or just Professor works. If anyone actually heard you calling me "England" they'd probably start believing all that rot the Prophet published about you last year."

"Yeah," Harry muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Are there others like you? Angels or countries or whatever?"

"Not angels," Kirkland laughed. "I'm rather unique in that aspect really. See, angels are usually humans who've successfully achieved enlightenment or a higher understanding and shed their physical forms. But countries come about as a result of a group of people who band together and come to identify as a particular nationality or group or what have you."

"So... you achieved enlightenment?" Harry wondered dubiously.

"Err, not exactly," Kirkland admitted with a frown. "It's sort of complicated. Most of the countries that exist today have their forerunners, like the Roman Empire or Gaul or Babylon and all the rest. Sometimes these people or cultures have been eradicated so fully that their personifications cease to exist, while other times they coexist alongside their successors for a while before fading. Not all of us are so connected to magick or our predecessors, but those of us that are can do some things the others can't."

"Like turn into an angel," Harry said.

"More or less," Kirkland nodded. "Think of it more like a temporary power boost in a video game. It's magick, so much of it is intent and perception, and we are often influenced by the perception or ideals that a majority of our people have or believe in."

"And a lot of people are Christian, or familiar with the religion," Harry realized.

"The Abrahamic faiths are held by quite a few people, yes," Kirkland agreed. "I personally prefer the Old gods myself."

Unsure as to how he should respond to that, Harry said nothing. It was probably for the best, as a moment later Professor Karpusi rounded the corner, arm in arm with a short man who Harry guessed to be from Japan based on his clothing.

"Kiku?" Kirkland said incredulously, catching the pair's attention.

"Igi- Arthur-san," Kiku replied with a smile. "How good to see you."

"Good to see you too; what are you doing here?"

"Spending Christmas," Professor Karpusi said, staring at Kiku with a smile that Harry had recently seen Ron and Hermione directing at each other quite a lot. "The Headmaster asked me to show him around."

"You have quite a beautiful castle," Kiku said to Kirkland, and it may have been Harry's imagination but the professor seemed to puff his chest out a bit.

"Yes, well, English architecture at its finest and all, you know. I mean, sure, it's technically in Scotland, but everyone helped to build it," Kirkland rambled on before realizing Harry was still there. "Ah, yes, Harry, this is Kiku Honda, a friend of mine from Japan."

"It is good to meet you," Kiku said, detaching his arm from Professor Karpusi's before giving a slight bow.

"Ah, likewise," Harry replied, bowing his head in reply. "I'm Harry Potter."

Kiku nodded. "So you are." He looked at Harry with warm brown eyes that seemed to peer into his soul but this wasn't Legilimency or at least it didn't feel like it. Kiku's smile grew a little wider. "Arthur-san tells me good things about you."

"Really?" Harry asked, eyebrows raised. He hadn't even gotten to really know Kirkland until recently!

"Yes; you've had quite a few adventures," Kiku said, smiling over at Kirkland.

"What, I'm not allowed to be proud of one of my people?" Kirkland retorted with a scowl, his cheeks red.

A few things clicked in Harry's mind. "Wait, you're  **from**  Japan? Are-" He swallowed. "Are you like him?"

Both Karpusi and Kiku blinked before looking at Kirkland. "You told him who you are?" Karpusi asked, no condemnation in his tone, just curiosity.

"Yes, or rather, Britannia Angel did," Kirkland replied, still blushing.

"Is that what that was earlier?" Karpsui wondered.

Kiku looked at the other two -  _ **countries** ,_ Harry's mind cried out incredulously - curiously. "What required such a move on your part, Arthur-san?"

"Oh, you know, just removing some Dark magick, no big deal," Kirkland said, waving his hand around.

The other two raised their eyebrows at him. "If you say so," Kiku said doubtfully.

"Are you sure you weren't drunk?" Karpusi asked.

"I- How dare you!" Kirkland huffed. "I am sober as can be right now, even with everything that's been going on lately! I have a duty to educate young minds and I certainly can't do that if I'm sloshed now can I?"

Harry tuned out the tirade as Kirkland continued on about how he wasn't given the proper respect, and really he was doing everyone a favor by blah blah blah.

Knowing that Kirkland was actually a country actually put quite a few things that had seemed strange this year into perspective. How he knew enough to become the History of Magic professor, his cryptic remarks about Voldemort, how he knew how to fight with a fucking  **sword**. Plus those weird guys who had been in Hogsmeade-

Harry stopped this train of thought and a look of disbelief crossed his face. "Wait a minute," he said, interrupting Kirkland's rant. "Does this mean  **Peter**  is a country?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The RomaBul crept up on me. One minute I'm writing fluff and the next minute boom, they're making out. This fic is the first time I'm even writing these two so yeah, hope they've pleased everyone so far. And soon there will be Alfred and Matthew and Gilbert in the story! Also USUK/UKUS xD;;
> 
> Harry's world view crashing around him is also fun to write xD So much fun x3 Also conducive to world building!
> 
> No anon reviews or language key this time, they're probably hiding from the cold.
> 
> Sorry for the short chapter, but this seemed a good spot to cut it off -.-;;
> 
> Remember that reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome~!


	30. Twas the Night Before the Night Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! We are starting to see some plot, and this chaper is chock full of things people have been wanting! Well, not chock full, but there is PruCan, and Alfred, and also Tony, so there's that.
> 
> Language Key:
> 
> French: " _insert text_ "

Peter was bored. This probably wasn't a good thing.

He was the only first year Gryffindor who'd stayed at Hogwarts over the winter holiday besides Jeanie Lamine, who spent most of her time in the girl's dorm so there was no way they could talk even if he wanted to. He'd  **wanted** to spend the break with Sweden and Finland, but his parents thought that staying with Jerk Arthur for Christmas would help them "bond" or something. So here he was, the night before Christmas Eve, alone and bored.

At least his warming charms were working. Being made of metal really sucked when it was super cold out. He liked Scotland, as Will wasn't nearly as mean about Sealand being a micronation as others were (granted, part of it was probably to piss Arthur off), but his winters  **sucked** , and this was coming from someone who lived with the Nordics!

With a groan, Peter rolled off the couch and flopped on to the floor. The "clank" he made when he hit the floor was a dull sound in the otherwise empty common room. He was sooo booooooored!

"Hey, Peter."

The micronation lifted his head from the plush carpet and looked up to see the Fat Lady's portrait closing behind Harry. "Hey," he replied flatly, no inflection in his voice.

Harry looked at him strangely and raised an eyebrow. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Booored," Peter said before burying his face in the carpet.

Harry's eyebrow went higher. "Okaaay," he said, looking around a little before sitting on the couch Peter had recently vacated. "You wanna talk about it?"

"I'm bored, not a teenage girl," Peter scoffed, or tried to. He had a faceful of carpet and it wasn't very conducive to anything he said actually being very coherent.

"You're lucky we're the only ones who heard that; Ginny and Hermione would definitely have something to say about that, especially Ginny," Harry said, glancing around as if the redhead would suddenly pop up and unleash her infamous bat bogey hex on them. Years of Ron talking through a large mouthful of food had made him quite skilled in understanding Muffled.

"Whateveerrrrrr," Peter groaned. He rolled over onto his back. "What are you doing out here anyway? Thought you'd be hanging out with your friend."

"Ron's busy with homework," Harry told him. "Hermione got him to promise to do it at the beginning of break instead of waiting till the last minute." He pushed his glasses up his nose a bit and licked his lips nervously. "I was actually with your brother and-"

"If you're looking for inside information on how get him to do something he doesn't want to do you've come to the wrong place," Peter interrupted with a pout. "Believe me, I have been trying for  **ages**."

"How long exactly?" Harry wondered, frank curiosity in his eyes.

Peter frowned. "A while," he replied cautiously. "Ages."

"Like a literal age or more like years or decades?" Harry asked.

"What did he tell you?" Peter demanded, sitting up and eyeing the boy suspiciously and with more than a little wariness.

"Well, first he turned into an angel-"

"Oh my God," Peter groaned quietly and facepalmed. At least he knew what that weird warm tingling had been earlier.

"-and then he explained that he was actually England. Then Professor Karpusi, who is probably a country too, haven't figured out which one yet, and this guy who is apparently Japan, showed up and they were talking and I realized that if you and Professor Kirkland are brothers, then that means you're a country too," Harry explained, running a hand through his already messy hair. "The guy from Japan, Honda, said you could explain it better than them?"

 _He thinks I'm an **actual**  country,_ Peter thought numbly.  _Not a joke, not a waste of space._  Whether to inform the physically older boy of the truth, that was the question. Then again, if no one else had told him already he'd probably learn it eventually and Peter would rather it be from him than from someone who didn't understand.

"Technically," he sighed. "Technically I'm a country."

"How does that even work?" Harry asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I'm what's called a micronation," Peter explained. "Not officially recognized by other governments but I, the Principality of Sealand, do exist." At Harry's confused frown, Sealand explained, "I was originally an offshore fort built to protect shipping lanes during the second World War. Afterwards some pirate radio broadcasters sought shelter in me and eventually declared independence."

"Is that why you're a kid?" The question slipped out and Harry almost grimaced.

Peter shrugged. "Maybe? I'm pretty young still, only a few decades old, so it might be that I have to grow older before or if my body changes." He put the fact that waMolossia and Seborga are much taller than him out of his mind, especially since Molossia was practically a baby in terms of nationhood. Then he perked up. "Wait, Kiku-san is here?"

"Yeah, your brother introduced him as Kiku Honda," Harry nodded. "Is "Kikusan" his full name, or some sort of nickname?"

"Ah, no, "san" is an honorific," Peter corrected. "It's like the Japanese equivalent of "Mister" or "Missus". It's rude not to use it with people you aren't close to or familiar with. Kiku-san is a super polite guy and kinda formal so I don't use "kun" or "chan" when addressing him. Those are for people you're closer to." The micronation grinned. "He's the one who sends me new Pokemon cards!"

"That would make sense," Harry said. "They're made in him - his country after all."

Peter nodded, then jumped up. "I'm gonna go find him and say hi, if you've got anymore questions...?"

Harry waved him off. "Go. I'll pick your brain later if I've got anymore questions."

"Thanks," Peter said. "I'm not exactly... well, most people brush me off since I'm not a "real" country, and even my parents tend to coddle me, so... thanks, Harry." He smiled at him.

"No problem," Harry replied with a reassuring smile. "Boy Who Lived and Is Possibly Insane and all, you know?"

Peter laughed and waved to Harry before leaving the common room.

Harry chuckled a little himself before realizing something a little confusing. "Wait,  **parents**?"

* * *

" _Joyeux Noël_ , Papa," Matthew said, greeting his father with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

" _Joyeux Noël_  Matthieu!" Francis replied, kissing Matthew on both cheeks. He turned to Gilbert, hands on his hips, with a mock glare. "I hope you have been treating him well, you rascal?"

"C'mon Francis, you know me!" Gilbert scoffed, shuffling in with their suitcases and setting them on the floor.

"Exactly," Francis said. "I  **do**  know you, Gilbert."

"Papa, please, we get enough of this from Arthur and Alfred and..." Matthew frowned as he thought of anyone else who disapproved, subtly or otherwise, of the two. "Pretty much everyone we both know, actually."

"It is because you are a delicate flower  _mon fils_ , while Gilbert has a certain, shall we say, reputation," Francis drawled.

"...I can benchpress a moose, I'm pretty sure I can take care of myself," Canada deadpanned.

"Not to mention what a tiger you are in bed," Gilbert purred, throwing an arm around Matthew's neck.

"Gil, stop," Matthew muttered with a shy smile, his cheeks red. "I don't care if you guys did have raunchy orgies with Antonio centuries ago, he's still my Papa and that is too much information for him."

The older nations had to bite back coos at how adorable he looked when embarrassed.

"So," Francis said, once the urge to cuddle Matthew had been thoroughly squashed, "how long will you two be staying with me?"

"Through Christmas Day," Matthew replied. "Then I'm going to go visit Arthur and Alfred at Hogwarts." He snickered. "Al thinks I'm going to go there and then here, not the other way around. Hopefully something will happen while the two of them are together and drowning in UST."

"Such a devious mind," Francis sighed, wiping a tear away. "You are truly my son."

"And I'll be going to see West and the in laws," Gilbert said, waggling his eyebrows. "Did you hear that he knocked Feli up?"

Francis raised an eyebrow more than halfway up his forehead. " _Non_ , I had  **not**  heard that. How did sweet little Romano take the news?"

"Tried to castrate him with a potato peeler," Gilbert cackled. "Luckily Toni was there to restrain him."

"Rome's legacy," Francis muttered, shaking his head. "Violence, art, and airheadedness."

* * *

"Hey Tony!" Alfred called, poking his head into his friend's workshop.

"Fucking," the alien replied, his voice echoing from where he lay under what looked to be a bunch of junk cobbled together.

"So that's where my microwave went," Alfred mused. "Hey man, I was just wondering if maybe you could give me a lift across the Atlantic?"

"Fucking."

"C'mon man, it'll be quick! I just need you to drop me off in Scotland."

"Fucking?"

"Cause you've got tons of advanced equipment that can actually find the damn place, where if I took a plane I'd be wandering around the country for weeks because Scotland's cool and all but his roads are shit and his maps aren't much better. I can hardly pronounce any of his places either! Not as bad as Wales, but still..."

Tony slid out from under his project. "Fucking?"

"Three Playstations? Man, you drive a hard bargain!" Alfred pouted. "But fine, three of 'em it is."

"Fucking," Tony nodded and went back to his work.

"Thanks man, I'll get my stuff!" Alfred left the workshop, a smile on his face. It'd be good to see Matt again, and even Arthur...

He blushed, thinking of the dreams he'd been having ever since Halloween and that one very realistic dream. Maybe, maybe he could use this time to work up the courage to actually say something. True he'd be surrounded by magic, but so long as there weren't any ghosts he could be the hero and woo Artie!

"...now where did I put that holy water," Alfred muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Al is a dork, PruCan is adorable, Francis is a Cool Mom (TM), and Peter and Harry bond. Hope y'all are ready for some absolutely ridiculous UST, romcom shenanigans, and literally everyone trying to get these dorks together!
> 
> For my Muslim readers and those of you in Paris, Lebanon, Japan, Baghdad, Mexico, China, and Korea, my heart and prayers go out to you. Be safe.
> 
> Translation notes: 
> 
> _Joyëux Noel:_ Merry Christmas
> 
>  _mon fils:_ My son


	31. Drop-ins Welcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, new chapter! Christmas is coming up, both in the story and real life! Also I promise that we'll get USUK/UKUS before the end of the year! x3;; This chapter is kinda short, but hopefully the content makes up for the shortness ;3
> 
> Note: The Asian nations' family dinners are srs bizness B|

"I'm done!" Ron groaned.

"That's great," Harry said where he sat on the floor playing Pokemon with Peter. He frowned at his cards. "I attach two fire energy to Charmander and end my turn," he said, laying down the cards in question.

"Harry you don't understand," Ron insisted, sprawling on his bed facing upwards. "I have never finished homework this early in my entire  **life.**  Ever!"

"Hermione's good for you," Harry said absently.

"Communication is the key," Peter offered before attaching an electric energy to his Zapdos. "All relationships have give and take."

"What are you even playing?" Ron asked, rolling over to get a right side up view of the others.

"Pokemon," Harry replied.

"Nice cards," Ron said.

"Here." Peter pulled a couple of cards out of the shoebox next to him and handed them to Ron. "That's Clefairy and Arcanine."

"Yeah, I  **can**  read," Ron said with a small smirk. "So you guys put these creatures against each other to fight?"

"The video games are much funner," Peter complained. "Not as much stalling as with the card game, since you have to have enough energies before you can use an attack. Plus in the video games there's a plot."

"Stories do usually make something more interesting," Harry agreed, staring at his cards as though they held the secrets to defeating Voldemort.

There was a loud knock on the door before Ginny poked her head in. "You boys decent?" she asked.

"You couldn't have asked that  **before**  you came in?" Ron called.

"Nothing I haven't seen before," she replied with a smirk.

"Ugh!" Ron stuck his tongue out. "Did  **not**  need to know that Gin-Gin."

"Why brother dearest, I'm merely speaking of the fact that I have six older brothers," Ginny said with faux surprise. "What on earth were  **you**  thinking?"

"Oh shut it," he muttered.

"Hey Ginny," Harry greeted. "Why're you here?"

"It's dinner time," she said.

"Why didn't you say so in the first place?" Ron exclaimed, springing up from his bed and dashing to the door.

"You were the one who distracted me," Ginny retorted as he brushed past her. "You coming?" she asked Harry and Peter.

"We can continue the game later," Peter assured Harry.

"All right." The two gathered the cards up into their respective decks.

"Excited for Christmas?" Ginny asked Harry.

"Very," he replied with a grin. "Spending it at the Burrow's gonna be great!"

"Mum's gonna have a field day stuffing you full of food," Ginny chuckled.

"We may not be spending the whole break there but some is better than none," Harry said. He turned to Peter, who was trailing along behind them. "How about you Peter? Spending time with your... family?"

"With Arthur I guess," Peter shrugged. "I wanted to go back North to spend it with Papa and Daddy and my Uncles but they thought it'd be better if I spent it with my brother." He rolled his eyes.

"Wait, so if you're brothers, why don't you have the same parents?" Ginny asked, confused.

"Papa Fin and Daddy Sve are my adoptive parents," Peter explained. "I'm a lot younger than my brothers and our... parents aren't around anymore and none of them were up for taking care of me, so..." He shrugged. "Daddy Sve adopted me."

"You live up North?" Ginny raised an eyebrow.

"It's on the border of Sweden and Finland. It gets even colder than here sometimes," Peter offered mischievously.

"Hard to believe," Harry said, looking out at the swirling snow.

Peter nodded, catching the hidden meaning behind his words.

Ginny looked between the two of them before deciding not to pursue that any further. They were already at the Great Hall anyways, so there was little use for continuing the conversation.

* * *

"So you and Professor Karpusi are... together?" McGonagall asked. "As in married or-"

"Oh no," Heracles cut her off. Kiku's face was bright red. "It'll be quite a while before we ever get to that point, if ever. Kiku likes to take things slow," he added in a stage whisper.

"I see," the Gryffindor Head of House said, eyebrow raised. "And you two are here on holiday?" She directed this at Kiril and Stefan, who were sitting further down the table, at the end next to Arthur.

"Mostly," Stefan agreed brightly. Kiril glowered next to him, his bright red turtleneck adorned with tiny trees, Santa sleighs, and reindeer. "Aren't we Kir?"

"Leave me out of it," Kiril muttered before sneezing. "I  **told**  you that the Astronomy tower was a bad idea in this weather..."

Minerva did not pursue this line of questioning any further, both because of the dark haired man's mood and the hickeys peeking just over the top of his turtleneck. "And they are your... acquaintances?" she asked Arthur, her smile brittle.

"Yes," Arthur replied, his cordial expression equally as forced. "They ran into some trouble back home I'm afraid."

"I see." Minerva sent Albus a side glance but he ignored her, merely twinkled merrily at Severus, who looked as dour as ever. "What kind of-"

There was a "squelch" and everyone's attention was diverted to Heracles, who now had a chopstick through his hand.

"Now that's just rude," the Grecian complained. Kiku, who was still holding the other chopstick that was not stuck through Heracles' hand, turned steely eyes on his lover.

"What is rude is trying to steal the food off of someone else's plate when you have plenty on your own," Kiku replied. Then he realized where he was and stammered out, "So terribly sorry, my apologies everyone."

"It's okay, I'm fine," Heracles reassured him. "See?" He pulled the chopstick out of his hand and the wound healed over. "I'm just fine."

"I am  **so**  sorry." Kiku was still profusely apologizing to the rest of the people at the table, who were torn between either fascination or disgust. "My family dinners tend to be rather hectic and I reacted somewhat on instinct."

"Let me guess," Arthur interjected. "Im Yong S-"

" **Yes,** " Kiku cut him off with a hiss and a sickly polite smile. "Im Yong Soo."

"Dinner  **and**  a show," Stefan muttered to Kiril. "I'm very interested in the Asian family dinners now." Kiril facepalmed.

* * *

"Dude, you've really upgraded since I was last in here!" Alfred said admiringly, running a hand over the smooth metal wall of the spaceship.

"Fucking bitch," Tony replied from the control chair where he pressed a number of blinking buttons.

"Nah, more like a decade," Alfred disagreed. "Hey, is that a satellite?"

"Fucking."

"Dude, I've been looking all over for this! My boss thinks it's my fault this went missing you know!"

"Bitch."

"I am not! This is a legitimate complaint man, do you know how much tech like this costs? A lot!" Alfred huffed and went to go sit on a table that slid out of the wall. 

"Fucking!"

"Wait what, already?" Alfred jumped up from the table and rushed over a panel in the wall that opened up, the air roaring past them at the incredible speeds they were going. "I want a look at your engine schematics later man." He rubbed his hands together. "See ya Tony!" he yelled before jumping out with a loud whoop and into the forest below.

* * *

 

"Was that really necessary?" Britannia asked Gaul, whose smirk took up much of her face. "Interfering with the alien's instruments like that?

"I think it will add an interesting twist," Gaul purred. "Why aren't you having this conversation with Native America over there?" She pointed a thumb at the aforementioned. "Sending dreams to her lovely Canada has to be breaking some rules, no?"

"Actually no," Ancient Greece said from where she sat watching her son with a small smile. "Rome visits his grandchildren in their dreams after all."

Gaul huffed. "Whatever. Can we go back to dedicating our best efforts to getting those two lovebirds together?"


	32. Alfred the Gay Horse Whisperer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I'm baaaaaack! *jazz hands and confetti* Thanks for waiting so patiently (or not so patiently if you checked every day waiting for me to update lol) and for being understanding about my circumstances. I have not replied to everyone who left reviews but I will get around to that soon-ish. 
> 
> Also this chapter kind of got away from me and now me and deideiartistic have an AU where Alfred is a cowboy and Arthur is a centaur. It's fucking adorable, feel free to hmu on tumblr about it :/
> 
> Anywho, finally we are getting to the USUK/UKUS heavy bit of the story. And by heavy I mean lots of cliché romcom shenanigans and UST and everyone is sick of these two and are chanting "kiss kiss kiss kiss!" every time they are in the room together. It's gonna be ridiculous (and more than a little inspired by Genos and Saitama bc those dorks are sO IN LOVE I HAVE FALLEN INTO OPM/GENOSAI HELL AND AM CONTENTLY BURNING)
> 
> Alternate title of this chapter: Alfred F. Jones, Centaur Relationship Counselor

Alfred felt he could safely say that he was able to take what life threw at him with aplomb. Take right now, for instance.

He'd intended for Tony to drop him by Hogwarts, right outside the castle actually. Instead, he'd ended up crashing in the middle of a creepy forest and somewhat confused on what exactly he should do. Well, okay, that was a bit of a lie. He knew what to do; find a way out! The only problem was **which** way...

And then there were the spiders.

Dear God the spiders.

He had uttered a somewhat embarrassing high pitched shriek that he would deny to his dissolution and beyond, but hey at least it wasn't as bad as that one time Toris had been helping him tidy up the cellar and-

Alfred shuddered. Those bugs had fueled enough nightmares that decades later he had had plenty of horror movie fodder.

With a huff and a determined look in his eye, Alfred squared his shoulders and began his trek again, leaving behind a clearing full of mangled spiders, some still twitching. Those that survived would tell their descendants the tale of the great Spider Slayer, and how his brute strength had rivaled that of their friend Hagrid's.

If anyone noticed for the next couple of months that the spiders were unusually absent, well, it was still winter.

* * *

 

Arthur could not sleep. He'd gone back to bed after the nigh disastrous dinner in the Great Hall (couldn't Heracles be fucking **subtle** for once?? Oh wait no he was fucking Kiku, who was practically a **ninja** ), woken a few hours later and could not fall asleep again. There was a nervous energy that just would not go away, along with a deep sense of foreboding.

He was unsure whether to attribute it to Voldemort or possibly the Solstice that had just passed three nights ago. That had left him particularly drained though, with only Britannia Angel as a balm, a divine being so close to the anniversary of Christ's birth, and thus an auspicious and holy day of great meaning and power. Perhaps not as much as the solstice, but comparable to the Pagan holiday.

Arthur sighed, leaning against the wall next to the window and gazing out at the snow covered landscape. It was so quiet and peaceful looking...

A tree flew high in the air, arcing quite nicely before falling back down to the ground with a dull thud that Arthur could hear even from the distance away from the Forbidden Forest he was.

For a moment he just stood there, blinking rapidly before realizing that no, he **was** awake, that was (probably) real and had just happened. "What the actual fuck," Arthur said flatly. He ran a hand down his face and sighed. "It's way too early for this," he muttered.

A liberal application of warming charms and throwing on some warmer clothes later and he was making his way through various corridors until he reached the main entrance. He winced as the doors creaked open, hoping he wouldn't attract any attention.

"Sir Kirkland!"

No such luck. Arthur turned, somewhat relieved to see only the Gryffindor ghost, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, or Nearly Headless Nick as he was more commonly referred to. "Sir Nicholas," he replied. "It's just Professor, or Arthur."

"What has you up and about this early?" the ghost inquired.

"I saw something... strange coming from the Forest," Arthur said.

"Strange, you say?" Sir Nicholas frowned. "Do you require any assistance?"

"I don't believe so," Arthur assured him. "I don't feel anything untowards from the wards, but just in case I'm going to check."

"Do call if you need any help," the ghost said. "I may not be as useful in a fight as I once was but I can summon the Headmaster or anyone else if need be."

"Thank you," England said with a nod. "If I don't return in an hour fetch Albus and the idiots in the room next to mine, as well as Professor Karpusi and his... **guest**."

"As you wish," the ghost promised with one closed fist crossed over his chest in salute. England nodded and slipped out the doors, unaware of the eyes that had been watching their exchange from the shadows.

* * *

 

Alfred was not having the best day - er, night? Stupid time zones! First spiders, then a spindly-legged creature he **swore** smelt of saltwater taffy (and not even the good kind), and now a drunk centaur!

"You have been partying way too much!" he complained as he dodged a kick that probably would've caved in the skull of a regular human. "And Christmas is tomorrow, you're supposed to celebrate **after**!"

"And Solstice was three nights past," slurred a centaur with dark grey hindquarters and the most impressive biceps Alfred had ever seen. "I was going to confess to Soleria before **you** dropped in with that bloody tree!"

"I was trying to defend myself against taffy!" Alfred retorted.

The centaur blinked, squinting at him. "Are you drunk, mate?"

"No!" Alfred huffed, face red. "You clearly are though, I don't think Soleria or whoever would've liked you anyway!"

"You - you ass!" the centaur howled, charging at Alfred and he was barely able to dive out of the way. Reminded him of playing with buffalo when he was younger... "Soleria appreciates me for who I am! He's very classy!"

"Oh, I'm sure he wants some drunk Casanova wannabe hanging all over him," Alfred scoffed. _Wait, I could've sworn that other centaur had boobs..._

"I'm, I'm not," the centaur sniffed and great, now he was crying, and ugh how was this his **life**? "Sure we have our differences, but Soleria likes me, he does!" The centaur was now sitting back, hind legs sprawled out with front legs between while he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Hey man..." Alfred trailed off, uncertain. He cautiously made his way over to the centaur, ready to dodge an attack should it come. When none did he fidgeted. "I'm sure you're a great guy when you're not being a weepy drunk, um... what's your name?"

"Merdenio," the centaur replied.

"Merdenio," Alfred said, a bit kinder. "Sorry about saying what I did, I was kinda caught up in the moment and ugh, you would not **believe** the night I had, seriously!" He huffed. "I'm Alfred by the way."

"Hello Alfred," Merdenio said, holding out one hand. They shook. "I'm sorry too, for attacking you. That tree kind of scared the shit out of me though, and I was finally going to tell Soleria tonight and..." He groaned, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes. "Fucking Venus retrograde, it always messes with me!"

"...Right," Alfred agreed, not quite sure what he was agreeing with.

"I'm not really drunk, just buzzed. Liquid courage, you know?" Merdenio sighed, looking up at towards the sky.

"Eh, alcohol's not really a good idea for me," Alfred confessed, jamming his hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket. "It's hard enough keeping control of my strength as it is when I'm not hammered - you saw that tree, man."

"Damn straight I saw that tree," Merdenio nodded vigorously, dark curly locks slapping against his face."Are you part giant?"

"No, just born on the shoulders of them," Alfred said with a wistful smile.

"So a demigod or something?"

"What? No! Well, I guess "or something" would fit best," Alfred muttered. "I'm not real good with this whole magic thing really. Like aliens, sure, cool, I am **totally** there, I am Mulder and Scully combined!"

"Then why are you in a forest filled with magical creatures right next to the oldest school of magic in the United Kingdom?" Merdenio asked, eyebrow raised impressively high.

"Trying to spend Christmas with my..." Alfred thought a moment, unsure what to classify Arthur as. "A friend."

"A friend, huh?" Merdenio's other eyebrow joined its twin and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards into a sly smile. "Sounds like we're in the same sort of predicament."

"What?" It took Alfred a moment and his cheeks immediately went bright red at the implication. "No, it's not-! Arthur's just my friend, okay!"

"Whatever you say," Merdenio chuckled. "But denial isn't just a river in Egypt."

"I hate that pun so much," Alfred swore. "It's stupid, dumb, and so cliché."

"If the shoe fits," Merdenio said in a sing-song tone.

"My boots are custom made," Alfred deadpanned. "Besides, our relationship is way too complicated."

"I know that pain," the centaur sympathized, reaching out and patting Alfred on the shoulder. "Soleria and my brother were betrothed since we were all children."

"Dude, that sucks **balls**. Speaking of, not to pry or anything, but I could've sworn that the other centaur I saw you with had boobs." He cupped his hands under his chest.

"He does," Merdenio agreed, scowling at Alfred's immature gesture. "And?"

"Just making sure I don't need to get new glasses," Alfred said, pinching one lens between his fingers and fiddling with it. "So since you were going to confess I'm guessing they're not engaged anymore?"

"Ah, no, my brother ran off with a mermaid a year or so ago." Merdenio chuckled sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his head.

Alfred just stared. "How does that even **work**?"

"To be honest, I have no idea," Merdenio confessed.

"There they are!"

The two turned to see several centaurs approaching through the trees, the one in front the light haired roan centaur Alfred recalled seeing briefly before. Merdenio quickly rose on all four of his legs, cheeks slightly pink.

"That's the human," the centaur Alfred was assuming to be Soleria said to a large centaur with thick black hair and a broad chest.

"What purpose do you have in the Forest?" demanded the centaur who seemed to be in charge.

"Elder Magorian-" Merdenio cut himself off at the censorious glare shot his way, front hooves nervously pawing at the ground.

"I will deal with you later. Human, what purpose do you have here in our domain?" Magorian spoke in a low growl and Alfred fought back the urge to reply in a similar tone.

"It's kind of an accident. See, I was supposed to get dropped off at Hogwarts but Tony misjudged the distance or something and I ended up in here. There were some spiders and this thing that kinda smelled like taffy-"

"The Trickster," snarled a centaur with a black coat. Magorian held up a hand and the centaur was quiet, though his scowl did not recede.

"Is that what you call it? Well, I ended up throwing a couple trees at it, so, um, sorry about that." Alfred chuckled nervously. "I dunno where it went, but uh, yeah, it's gone now, so if you could just point me in the direction of the castle I can be on my way and not bother you anymore."

"You trespass on our grounds," Magorian said, his voice a deep rumble. "Your attack on the other denizens of the Forest we will overlook, as they are pests, but you attacked two of our own."

"That was an accident!" Alfred insisted, tensing slightly. He did **not** want to have to fight his way out of here! "I didn't know that Merdenio and his boyfriend were there-"

"We're not-!" Soleria huffed while Merdenio's cheeks went dark red.

"-since I don't have night vision and-"

"What the **hell** is going on here?"

Everyone turned at the sound of the new voice and Alfred's eyes widened. "A-Arthur!"

"What are you doing here?" England demanded in a bewildered tone, and really, only **he** would be able to pull that off.

"Didn't Matt tell you I was coming?"

"I haven't seen Matthew in months!" Green eyes narrowed as he took in the scene before him, the ball of light hovering at eye level casting eerie shadows across his face. "Now just what exactly is going on here?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~don't ask how the summerween trickster ended up here i don't actually know~~


	33. Damn Venus Retrograde

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2017 better not be as bad a shitfest as 2016, i s2g
> 
> Apologies, again, for the long wait. Thanks so much for all of your well wishes, even if I didn't reply to them I got them and they mean a lot to me, they got me through some tough times. It's been an eventful year, filled with extra hours to save up for an apartment and then moving into said apartment, as well as getting promoted at work and moving to working night shifts and I just got hired for a second job which i will eventually transition to fully so I don't have to work until 4-6 am lol ~~i'm going to die this tuesday help~~
> 
> I have a [tumblr](http://www.stargatenerd.tumblr.com) set up specifically for my fanfic now (separate from my personal blog) where you guys can ask questions about fic or my original stories or get updates on my writing and shit :) I would appreciate if y'all would stop by since part of the reason I've had such trouble writing is because I isolated myself when I work best bouncing ideas off of people and discussing them with people who have a vested interest in what I'm writing.
> 
> Now, onto the main event! Keep in mind that a Venus retrograde is known as a time when we're more likely to run into old friends and lovers. The underlying theme is becoming reacquainted with something or someone of value. It's also not seen as an ideal time to start a new relationship ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Arthur's witching hour light illuminated the deeper shadows of the Forbidden Forest that refused to be touched by the full moon overhead. A shiver ran down his spine despite his layers and warming charm. He was starting to regret, just a little, not bringing someone else with him. Waking anyone up at this hour would have been a chore though, and he  **was** a gentleman. Also, the only person available whom he had enough trust in to watch his back out here was Kiku, and he was not going to brave going to Greece's room, no indeed.

The first sign that he was close to the source of the disturbance (who was he kidding, a full grown tree flying a good fifteen meters or so in the air was more than just a  **disturbance** ) was a tree ripped from the ground and laying haphazardly on its side. Then another tree and-

He sniffed the air. Was that... taffy he smelled? Strange. The sound of raised voices led him further through the trees and if it weren't for the fact the cold had sapped away all trace of sleepiness more than twenty minutes ago he would have entertained the idea that he was dreaming at the sight of Alfred and a group of centaurs in the middle of a clearing. "What the  **hell** is going on here?"

Alfred turned, eyes widening behind his glasses. "A-Arthur!"

Was it just him or was that a hint of relief in the younger nation's voice? More importantly though... "What are you doing here?"

"Didn't Matt tell you I was coming?"

"I haven't seen Matthew in months!" And what did he have to do with this? Really why the hell  **was** Alfred here, in a dark forest full of magical creatures when the lad could barely stomach the supernatural? Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Now just what exactly is going on here?"

The largest centaur of the group turned to him. "Is he with you?" the centaur asked, dark brow furrowed.

"Yes, I suppose he is," Arthur said. When Alfred didn't so much as move or acknowledge what he said, Arthur huffed. "Get over here you idiot," he hissed. "Was it you throwing trees around? Never mind," he cut Alfred off. "We'll talk about it later, as well as get you a thicker jacket."

"Dude, my jacket is totally fine!" Alfred protested as he trudged over to the other nation. The witching hour light hovered near his head and he flinched a bit, ducking around it.

"It is winter in Scotland, that jacket is not even close to adequate," Arthur argued.

"It's fine!"

"If he is in your care then please remove him," the centaur interrupted. "And do keep a better eye on him. Should he cause such trouble on our grounds again I will not be so lenient."

"Yes, my apologies," Arthur said. "He's always been a handful."

"I am two hands full," Alfred muttered. He hissed at the kick to his leg. Arthur rolled his eyes and grabbed the younger's wrist.

"Saturn gives way to Jupiter, England." Arthur stopped at the deep authority in the centaur's voice. "Power is a cycle that cannot be stopped, not even by those of the Earth." His deep brown, almost black eyes locked on to England's bright green. "It is inevitable."

"Duly noted," England replied flatly. He tugged America towards the trees and the way he had come. "Let's go, America."

The superpower's gaze darted between England and the centaurs. "'kay," he agreed without much emotion. "Hey, Merdenio, nice meeting you! I hope you and Soleria have lots of cute centaur babies!" He chuckled at the sputtering from both of them.

"Do I even want to know?" Arthur muttered as they entered the trees.

"I give great relationship advice." Alfred pouted at the scoff Arthur gave. "I do!"

"You suggested to Sweden and Finland that they should build a giant Lego hamburger for their anniversary."

"And they had a great time doing it!"

Arthur shook his head. "You're impossible. What are you doing here anyway? You hate magic."

"I don't...  **hate** it. It's just kinda skeevy and makes me jittery," Alfred defended. He side eyed the witching hour light that was fortunately on Arthur's other side. "It's weird, man."

"Aliens are weird."

"Dude, you have like the longest running TV show that is all about aliens."

"It's also about time travel."

"But mainly aliens."

"I can't believe we're having this conversation," Arthur sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose.

"I can't believe Matt didn't tell you I was coming." Alfred huffed. "He said he was gonna get here before me, too!"

"Well, Matthew may not be here, but Greece and Japan are, as well as Romania and Bulgaria."

"Kiku's here?" Alfred perked up. "Dude, that's awesome! Who are those other guys though? Hey man, chill, I'm just kidding!" he said with a nervous laugh at the glare Arthur gave him. "Too bad Tony didn't stay around longer, I've been trying to get him and Kiku to meet for a while. Well, I mean they've already met, but Kiku denies it ever happened."

"That does seem to be his default coping mechanism," Arthur noted. "Explains why you're in the middle of the Forest too. Magick tends to mess with electronics and the amount of ambient energy Hogwarts puts out is quite a lot."

"Just one more reason magic gives me the heebie jeebies," Alfred said with a shiver. "I need my electronics, dude!"

"I can empathize with you there." Arthur glanced sidelong at him. "Why  **are** you here? You said Matthew should have told me, but I haven't seen or talked to him in months, since May at least."

"Well, he said he was gonna come visit you for Christmas, and I dunno, it seemed like a good idea, hanging out with the two of you at Christmas this year." Alfred ducked his head, thankful for the low lighting as he felt his cheeks heat up. His gaze drifted to where Arthur's hand wrapped around his wrist, just below the palm. With a deep breath, Alfred twisted his wrist and slotted their fingers together. "I've kinda missed you."

When Alfred's hand shifted Arthur’s face went blank, then scrunched up in confusion. He stopped, gaze darting to where their hands were now joined before going back up to Alfred’s face. “You… missed me?”

“Yeah. I did.”

Arthur scoffed. “Missed nagging at me more like it.”

Alfred grimaced. “Don’t do that. The self deprecating “no one cares about me” shit, it just - it’s honestly really annoying.”

“Annoying?” Arthur yanked his hand away. “You’re the one who’s always deflecting, who always brushes off any sort of real emotion or affection to or from you!”

“Well I had to learn it from somewhere,” Alfred drawled.

“Oh, so that’s the  **one** thing that you admit to learning from me? Decades of taking care of you and that’s all that comes of it?”

“Would you fucking-” Alfred huffed, utterly frustrated. “It always comes back to that with you, to you still seeing me as a kid! Well I’m not!”

“I know you’re not!” Arthur snapped. “Two World Wars, I know you’re not, you’ve made it clear you’re  **not** !”

“Then why can’t you treat me like that?” Alfred demanded, his arms jabbing out to the side. “As your equal, as someone who is on the same level as you?”

“Because we’re not!” England shouted. 

“So??”

“You’re a fucking superpower!” England spat, venom green eyes luminous by the witching hour light. “We’ve spent the last forty years, almost, trying to get back on all our feet while hoping and praying to whoever that you and Russia didn’t kill us all butting heads over some petty arguments. Germany’s still a mess, hell most of Eastern Europe is, Prussia’s disbanded, there’s no more Empires!”

“What, you’re petty cause you lost your colonies?” America asked incredulously.

“My point is, we’re  **not** on the same level,” England said through gritted teeth. “You’re asking me to treat you as an equal when I’ve been in your shoes and I can’t-”

“I’m not asking you this as America, I’m asking as me, as Alfred!” he yelled, patting one hand against his chest and throwing his other arm out wide. “I’m asking you to talk to me, to treat me like a friend, not a little brother, or an ally, but someone you can trust!”

“I do trust you,” Arthur insisted. “I trust you to do what you think is right, no matter how harebrained it seems to anyone else. I trust you to help me and then turn around and make fun of me for being grateful. I trust you to-”

“That’s not what I want,” Alfred interrupted. “What you’re talking about, that’s me being predictable, and that’s what people count on, for me to act like a loud mouthed moron with a hero complex. And you know what? Maybe I am one. But I grew up wanting to be a hero, to be someone who swoops in at the last second and saves the day because of you, because of the times you would come home obviously injured but would play with me anyway, because of those toy soldiers you made me and the bandages on your hands. I wanted to be your hero, and I never stopped, in one way or another, loving you.”

Arthur just stared in shock, mouth partly open, eyes wide.

“And rebelling against you? Yeah, it hurt, but you were smothering me and people change, nations change but people especially change and that’s, that’s necessary, for the world to keep on turning.” Alfred swallowed nervously, his mouth dry. “You used to be this big, impossibly large figure but I grew up and I - I saw you as a person, as someone who I could catch up to, I didn’t have to settle for just trying to touch your shadow. But even then, you still held yourself apart from not just me but from everyone and that’s because I hurt you and I’m sorry-”

“Stop.” Arthur’s tone was frigid and cold even if the tears starting to trickle down his cheeks were warm. “Just - stop, I can’t-” He stumbled back, hand over his mouth, his breath starting to come faster.

“Arthur-”

“Don’t!” he wheezed, stopping Alfred in his tracks, one foot forward. “Don’t. I can’t - I can’t deal with this right now America. Let’s just get back to the castle.” He turned and started walking away.

“...shit,” Alfred said.

  
  



End file.
